Remembrance Trilogy I: Reunions
by Autumn L
Summary: Movie 07. Spoilers. More Autobots have arrived on Earth and one night someone unannounced appears while Ironhide is meeting with Lennox. Will's life is soon in danger as the Decepticons put an insidious plan in motion, leaving all of the Autobots at risk.
1. Chapter 1

**Reunions**

_Author's Note: Repaying a dedication with a little nod to Straya's post-'86 movie fic, Second Chances ) This is unfolding as I go along so I don't know yet how long it will be. This departs from the way I wrote my previous movie fics and kicks off my own development for the movieverse. I'm touch and go on the dialogue, trying to ease the TFs into using contractions. Personally, I like their formal manner of speaking and I think they would stay that way until influence from prolonged exposure began to sink in._

* * *

Another planetfall was scheduled for that night but Ironhide would not be attending. He was already parked three states away from the designated landing point. The United States government had worked with the Autobots to time their arrivals with meteor showers and out of the way landing zones. Very few people knew that six more robotic aliens had joined the ones that had previously taken up residence several months ago.

Ironhide was all for welcoming old comrades. But the previous two landings had served as a reminder of all the comrades he would never see again, and so he chose to keep his pre-arranged meeting with Captain Lennox. The two had been visiting regularly to discuss weapons development in case other Decepticons found their way to Earth.

Ratchet kept sending him updates, anyway. _"They are half-past Saturn."_ was the most recent one. He mentioned it to Lennox as they sat in the field near the captain's house, concealed from the road by an old barn. They both leaned against the side as if there was no difference between them; Lennox merely happened to have climbed onto a stack of hay bales, ignoring the stray pieces that he had collected on his sweater and jeans on the way.

"I bet we could see the entry from here," Will said. "Normal meteor showers are pretty cool -- because at least I know they aren't something I have to duck and cover from."

"Their trajectory won't take them this far," Ironhide replied, shaking his head.

Lennox grinned. "Where are you hiding them all, anyway?"

"Wherever we feel like," Ironhide joked. "Not much is going to stand in the way, after all."

"Should I expect any to show up on base?"

"We have been trying to stay with civilian vehicles, but it is up to the individual which form they prefer."

"Government sanctioned, too, I bet."

"Yes. It would be much to our advantage if we could gain some military forms."

"From an inventory standpoint I can understand it. Besides, you guys seem pretty good at mounting big guns on something ordinary." Lennox grinned again, motioning to Ironhide's left arm.

"I was thinking in terms of soldier placement. Having a few of our men already amongst yours would be an advantage to both."

Lennox shifted to lay on his back. "Yeah, I can see your point. If it was up to me, I'd say yes. But, of course, it isn't." He caught a flicker of red light in the sky and hastily sat up again. "Are you _sure_ we won't see them from here?" He pointed when Ironhide looked at him questioningly, but the red flare was gone. "Huh. Guess I was seeing things."

"A man such as you?" Ironhide stood up and looked around at the sky, turning left and right while scanning.

"I appreciate the confidence, but I'm still only human. I can be at one-hundred percent and still have a speck of dust get in my line of sight." To prove his point, Lennox rubbed at one eye and glanced skyward again.

Ironhide kept scanning. He then abruptly scooped the human into his hands. To his credit, Lennox only silently grabbed for the nearest mechanical digit to steady himself. "Where, _exactly?"_ Lennox regained his balance and stood up on the Autobot's right palm, being careful to double check before pointing again. Ironhide lifted his head in the indicated direction, his optics brightening then shifting to a reddish-violet as he zoomed in and tried to scan farther.

One of the untranslated but increasingly familiar Cybertronian sounds rumbled out from the warrior. Lennox made a mental note to ask what it was supposed to mean. "Trace elements," Ironhide announced as he set the human down on the hay bales. "I can't identify them. Too far away."

"Elements of _what?"_

"An unknown metal. If it is one of ours and not an actual meteor, they may have picked up armor from another planet."

Since the Autobot didn't seem too disturbed by it, Lennox relaxed. Inside he hoped that other races of robotic aliens weren't going to start making a habit of dropping in. It would be strange when the number of sentient vehicles began to outnumber the native ones. He then berated himself for thinking _when_ instead of _if._

Ironhide radioed Ratchet about the possible discovery. The medic responded that their incoming mechs were still too far out for it to have been one of them.

"I guess it _was_ just some space junk. Maybe something one of your previous guys shed before entry and it got caught up in an orbit, and it finally decayed?"

Ironhide didn't look convinced. He kept checking the sky, waiting for another sign to manifest itself.

Lennox pondered the mech's expression. Then something else occurred to him. "Please don't tell me you're thinking it could have been a Decepticon."

Ironhide nodded gravely. "We must take it into account."

"Great." Lennox ran his hand over his hair, sucking in a breath. "Should I put in a call? I'm not sure how well a false alarm will go over."

"But there is a chance it _could_ be a Decepticon. It is worth the time and effort to find out!" Ironhide's cannons slid into ready position at his agitation.

"Time tends to change things for humans," Lennox said, a little dejected. "We like to be prepared, but sometimes complacency looks better to the budget."

Ironhide glared at him, but knowing it wasn't Lennox's personal fault, turned his gaze to the ground. "Foolish. The one who makes such decisions should have one of us near for council."

"He does -- one of your tactical and defense boys is stationed down there. The problem is that the head honchos like to think they're above being ordered around by aliens. Our planet, our rules, and things like that."

"Ridiculous," the Autobot grumbled, not commenting on the fact he hadn't been told of someone assigned to DC. He peered toward the western horizon. "How soon can you be ready to set out?"

"You can't be serious! At least check with the conservatory network," Lennox amended when another glare fell his way. "Someone might have identified it already."

"I'll check on the way. C'mon." Ironhide stepped away from the wall and transformed. Lennox made his way off the hay bales. "Can I at least tell my wife, first?"

"You can do that on the way as well."

Will sighed, taking his cell phone from his pocket. He brought up the house number as he opened the truck's passenger side door. "Hi, honey. I just got a call -- don't worry, it's just something local, shouldn't be a big deal. But don't wait up, okay? I'm with Arcstrom." The message conveyed to her that the call was_ Autobot_ business, not military.

"All right," came her slightly worried reply. "Be careful."

"Always. Love you." He climbed into the truck and barely had his seat belt on when Ironhide drove off in the general direction of the light. "This thing better not be _hours_ away. I would be better off having an idea where we're headed so I can contact someone closer," he hinted.

"We are close enough," Ironhide said. "Its trajectory puts it in the next county."

"You could tell that from here without even seeing it yourself?"

"I track missiles for a living."

"Right."

Ironhide's radio suddenly crackled and Ratchet's voice invaded the cab. "Ironhide! There is something headed your way! I cannot get an I.D.!"

"Already on it. I estimated its impact point. Lennox and I are en route."

Ratchet's next comment was in Cybertronian. "He's with you? That could be dangerous."

The reply was also encoded. "I can protect him."

The medic then warned, "Just remember, no one is around to back you up. If things look bad, retreat."

"Noted. Ironhide out."

If Lennox had been able to understand the exchange, he would have known with his own certainty that Ironhide had no intention of retreating.

They reached the end of the field and pulled onto the highway. Ironhide hit the speed limit and maintained it for the next fifteen miles. He only slowed when they came to an exit that lead off into a wooded campground. Lennox let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. The campground was closed this time of year and far enough out of the way that things _might_ stay contained. Barring a forest fire. "This place is highly flammable."

"Noted," Ironhide replied, hearing the warning in the human's voice. He shut off his lights and crept further down the road before scanning the area. Deeming it safe enough for the moment, he let Lennox out and then transformed. As always, he had his cannons armed in seconds. He began a more thorough scan, walking slowly through the trees while Lennox peered around from beside the mech's foot, keeping pace as Ironhide moved. Lennox knew it would do little good against a Decepticon but having a handgun with him made him feel better.

Ironhide's internal comm crackled this time, preventing eavesdropping, but the concern in Ratchet's voice had increased threefold. "A second unknown is headed your way! It's coming in fast -- it went right past our other incoming. Optimus gives the order for you to recon _only._ Do _not_ engage. Do you hear me?"

"Calm down, Ratch. I haven't even found anything yet." Ironhide glanced skyward for a sign of the second fake meteor. "No visuals on the second. I'll keep in touch." As soon as he disconnected a bright light filled the sky. The 'meteor' had come into visual range all right...and they were in its potential path. Ironhide pointed westward. "Run!" Lennox took off, the memory of how dangerous Scorponok had been lending more speed to his feet. He made it across the open ground to an old stone wall. He threw himself to the ground behind it, rolling back up until he was right up against the stones.

A few seconds later Ironhide made a similar bid for cover, except the wall was no where near adequate. The ditch a few feet in helped, though. Ironhide managed to flatten himself against the ground, one hand braced on the dirt and the other arm holding a cannon just above the edge of the wall.

Lennox cautiously looked over the top of the stones. The fiery blot in the sky was getting bigger. "I think I'm going to eat my words about meteor showers being cool."

Ironhide didn't respond. He visibly tensed, the barrel on his left cannon shifting around rapidly. Lennox shuffled farther away. As one used to engaging in firefights, he braced himself knowing the meteor would hit at any moment.

The sound was spectacular, the impact teeth-rattling, the scrape and clatter of metal frightening.

The thing had landed and transformed all in the same burst of momentum. It came up on one knee, the opposite arm already forming into a weapon. Lennox drew in a breath. It looked to be as tall as Ironhide, and even though it was plain of armor and had no distinguishing features like the Autobot, it looked twice as mean.

Ironhide seemed to be stunned, too. He lowered his head, whispering to Lennox, "Protoforms do not usually come in armed. This is...irregular."

The newcomer didn't look in their direction, instead turning eastward, standing as it did, since nothing threatened it from the previous direction. The end of its cannon-arm glowed blue as it began to move in a circle. Ironhide's head went up. "It's after the other one. Stay here."

"What--" Lennox made a grab at Ironhide's near horn but missed. He sighed and ducked down again.

Ironhide took a single step out from the treeline and emitted a noise Lennox could swear he had once heard from the furnace in his basement. The newcomer responded in higher-pitched but still familiar modulated tones of the Autobot's language. Lennox relaxed as it turned into a calm, if patchy dialogue -- Ironhide gestured even when he made no sound, leaving the human to assume more went on beyond his hearing range.

He was so caught up in the exchange that he didn't hear the crackle of foliage behind him as something moved up the path.

But he did hear the clatter of that something transforming. He spun around, leveling his gun on it. It wasn't big -- well, as far as the two mechs he had been watching went -- but it looked like it was taller than him -- if it was even standing up straight. Red optics shown from a figure that blended with the other shadows. He heard a shriek behind him and the whine of a weapon charging. He hoped the newcomer had _really_ good aim.

"No!" Ironhide cried in English. He moved in front of the barrel as a shot was fired. He grunted from the impact, but it did little more than sting and knock him off balance for a moment. He knew it would have severely burned if not vaporized Lennox.

The shadowy Decepticon took the opportune distraction and grabbed Lennox with a four-fingered hand, two closing on either side like a vise.

The newcomer shrieked again. Ironhide let out a bellow. Then they were lost amidst the trees as the Decepticon carried Lennox off the path. Will struggled to get enough air in so he could think. When he did, the first thought was wishing he had been able to keep some Sabot rounds on him. The second was that he needed to do something _fast_ before this menace got into the civilian areas. Fortunately, it seemed to prefer the shadows, in turn working in Lennox's favor because he had no idea what to do. He would have tried shooting it but he couldn't see enough of it to find a weak spot.

They burst out into a clearing, the Decepticon hissing and putting its other arm in front of its face, blocking Lennox's view of its head. He had no idea why it was doing so. He did try to make out some of its details. Its armor seemed to be a deep purplish color with some brown here and there. He tried to shift around to get a better look at the thing's back. He spotted two large projections against its shoulders that looked like they could unfold.

The Decepticon hissed again and pulled Lennox against its chest as if aware of his analysis. The move was just what Will needed to get a better view -- and find a place to shoot at. Its chest was perfectly covered straight up along its neck to its jaw. He saw openings in its cheeks; he stoppped looking. He twisted sideways and quickly reached up, firing semi-blindly at the slots.

His captor uttered a sound that echoed back on itself and increased in pitch until it was too much for Lennox's ears to take. He screamed in the hopes of alerting Ironhide, dropping his gun to clap his hands over his ears.

The sound cut off abruptly. In a grating voice that sounded like sandpaper scratching over metal, the Decepticon hissed, "Next time you will lose your auditory sensors. Efforts to escape will only lead to physical harm."

Lennox shook his head to clear it, a ringing in his ears that was certain to last. He ignored the warning and twisted himself again to see if Ironhide was anywhere in pursuit. He began to worry that the protoform had been a trick and really was another Decepticon. If so, this was going to be a really tough one to get out of. He had already figured he was going to be used as a hostage, since the Decepticon hadn't killed him for shooting at it. Or, they might want information from him seeing as he was a close ally -- they might have been monitoring him and knew about which subjects he and Ironhide regularly discussed.

He caught a flash of light through the trees but after a few seconds there was no sign of a missile. The Decepticon plowed back into the foliage, allowing stray branches to whip into Lennox. He put his arms up to protect his face, clenching his teeth against sting after sting of small branches leaving narrow slices in their wake. He hoped he wasn't imagining things when he heard an engine rev up ahead.

The Decepticon burst into the next clearing and slammed right into something grayish-blue. For a moment its grip on Lennox went loose, and the human prepared himself to slip free -- but then the vise-like talons closed on him again. Lennox was glad he hadn't jumped. They might have caught his arm or leg instead and broken the limb.

The grayish-blue object was a four-door SUV with a rounded top and back. If this was any other situation, Lennox could also have noted that it was a Chevrolet HHR. The situation, of course, instead lead to the SUV rearranging itself into a tall, imposing figure whose left arm formed into a canon barrel. A no-nonsense female voice demanded, "Ratbat, release the human _now!"_

"What for?" the Decepticon taunted. "You hunted me all the way here, do you not want to find out why?"

Metal fingers grabbed the hand holding Lennox and yanked. Ratbat's arm came free of its socket. As the Decepticon screeched and flailed, Ironhide pried the talons apart. "How about _no."_ Once Lennox was safely balanced on his right hand, Ironhide aimed his left cannon at Ratbat.

The female Autobot stepped forward. "If _I_ could have the honors--" She ended with a word in Cybertronian.

"Of course." Ironhide grinned and moved back, looking down at Lennox. "Are you badly injured?"

The human's reply was drowned out by a shriek from Ratbat. It didn't reach the damaging volume as before but it was followed up by the clatter of Ratbat transforming. A large metallic bat flew upwards and away. A few pulse blasts followed, one scoring a wing, but with a burst of propulsion the Decepticon escaped their range.

The sound of metal rearranging itself came from the newcomer Autobot -- not to alt mode, but into a propulsion backpack. She began to race across the clearing in the direction Ratbat had flown, the three engines flaring.

"Chromia, wait!" Ironhide called. "We need to alert Optimus!"

She snorted. "You and I can handle the likes of him by ourselves. Follow on the ground."

Lennox rapped on Ironhide's palm to get his attention. "I can tell you which roads to take that go in the direction we need to follow. If we've got a chance to kill another of those creeps, let's take it."

Ironhide nodded, setting him down then transforming. Lennox climbed into the passenger side, belting in as Ironhide peeled out. Chromia had already taken off.

"Follow my signal," her voice crackled from the radio.

"I will never lose sight of it again," Ironhide promised evenly. There was no reply -- that Lennox could hear. Ironhide then addressed him. "She is going east."

"Take the road there, then make a left at the first turn." Lennox replied, meanwhile fishing through his pockets. He took out a sanitizing wipe and began patting his scratches, ignoring the urge to hiss a couple of times. He could recall grazes from bullets that hurt less. "So," he said, in an attempt to distract himself, "That's her, huh?"

"Yup," Ironhide responded with a voice brimming with pride. "She has not changed a bit."

Lennox couldn't think of a reply other than, "Uh-huh..." Another five hundred feet of dirt road passed before he started instructing again. "Take this right, then go straight, and take the second right."

"And if she turns north?"

"Take the first left."

They continued for a minute and a half longer. Suddenly a half-transformed Ratbat plunged through the trees in front of them. Stunned, neither Ironhide nor Lennox said a word while the Decepticon uttered a pained, weak screech. The truck began to back up so he could transform.

However, Ratbat flipped himself up, completed his transformation, and grabbed the front of the Topkick. Ironhide tried to floor it backwards but the Decepticon was lifting his front tires and holding him fast. A warbling shriek came from the bat, increasing in volume. Ironhide could turn off his audio receptors, but Lennox knew he couldn't withstand another assault. He debated jumping out. He stopped just as he grabbed the door handle. A vibration ran through the truck. _"Eeaargh..._ Will...brace yourself!"

Lennox scrambled into the back seat, expecting the windshield to shatter. He hunkered down behind the passenger side seat, arms over his head, waiting to hear the glass.

Instead there was an ominous creak. Then Ironhide let out a protesting bellow as Ratbat pulled off his grill, damaging his hood on the way. The bellow turned into a groan when the attacker turned attention to the wheel wells. The back door opened. "Will -- run--!"

Lennox grabbed the door frame and tucked his head down, rolling free a hair's breadth before Ironhide transformed. Sparks flew from his shoulders and chest, but at least the move dislodged Ratbat. The Decepticon stopped his noise and made to take off.

Chromia slammed down on top of him, her cannon barrel forcing his head down. Smoke trailed from her backpack. "You will pay for that with your _own_ armor."

"You are welcome to it!" Ratbat shifted, throwing her off. He then shook rapidly, sending metal plating flying. He jumped up and his feet became drills which he plowed into the ground. In seconds he disappeared down a narrow hole.

Lennox disentangled himself from the pachysandra he had landed in. He walked over and peered down the hole. "Well, that explains the name."

Chromia's arm shifted back to a normal forearm and hand, her back pack rearranging itself into armor. "We will let him go for now. He is already badly injured if he took that form." She put one arm behind Ironhide and placed her other hand on his chest. "Think you can make it?"

"Of course," he grumbled, trying to shift away from her attention. The right-side half of his bumper promptly clanged to the ground. Chromia put her hands on her hips while he bent to retrieve it and his mangled grill. He attempted to fit the bumper back into place but the grill was difficult in his current state.

"Do you require assistance?" Chromia asked in what sounded much like a teasing voice. Lennox watched them both with interest, curious about how the spark dynamic Ironhide had once mentioned worked.

Ironhide muttered an, "Affirmative," and eased back into truck mode. Chromia knelt and examined his front and repositioned the right side of his bumper then inspected the grill. "Too damaged. You will have to get Ratchet to straighten it out -- I assume Ratchet is still with you?" she added cautiously.

"Yes. But it's a long drive, just so you know. Put it in my bed."

She did so, then transformed and opened her passenger side door to Lennox. "Would you care to accompany me? Just tell me which road to take and I will bring you to your dwelling."

Lennox glanced at Ironhide, unsure how Chromia would react to a human passenger. The Topkick flicked its headlights briefly as if to encourage him. With a shrug, Will sat down and shut the door. "Sure. I appreciate it." He directed her to the highway, Ironhide following close behind. After a few minutes Lennox shifted a little in his seat, clearing his throat. He knew he should say something but couldn't decide on just one thing.

She solved the issue for him. "So, has the old codger been giving you humans much trouble? If so, I will straighten him out for you." She chuckled.

"Oh, he's been...great." Will laughed awkwardly. He wasn't sure how she would respond to any given answer; he had already seen what happened when she was angry. He decided to keep quiet with military stoicism.

"Talk, human. I want to know what it is that made Optimus Prime call us here."

Taken aback, Lennox summoned up words. "I think he called you here because this is where the Allspark landed, and it seemed like a good place to start over. I'm not sure how the general public will react, but _I'm_ glad you all are here. Knowing there are more Decepticons out there, it's reassuring to know we have the Autobots on our side."

"Smart lad." The air over the driver's seat shimmered and the image of a woman in her late thirties appeared, wearing jeans, a faded red shirt, and a denim jacket with a matching baseball cap over her frizzy red hair. The hologram looked over at Lennox and blew a bubble of pinkish gum, letting it pop in his general direction. "Your World Wide Web is amusing, by the way."

Lennox laughed, imagining such a woman standing next to Ironhide's holographic driver.

"I amuse you? Well, I suppose that is good."

"No offense meant. I was just picturing this driver beside Ironhide's. You, ah, make a nice couple."

"Couple, hmm?" Chromia accessed the Internet again. She went silent for a good ten minutes, within which Lennox gave the last directions to his house. They were coming up on the driveway when she spoke again. "You humans do some strange things all just to procreate."

"Well, not _all_ of us do those things." Lennox rubbed his temples, wondering who was going to have to explain the sort of things she must have stumbled across.

"I see that it is a taboo subject. I apologize."

"Hey, better me than someone...less familiar with it." Lennox put a hand to the back of his head and laughed again.

"I think I will keep my curiosity to myself from now on, until I have a chance to study the cultural issues further. I have moved from world to world so quickly that such things were not of consequence before."

"So your team just did surveillance instead of thorough searches?"

"We did when there still was a team. I am the only one left."

"I -- I'm sorry..." Lennox bowed his head respectfully.

"This is _war_ Captain Lennox. You get used to it."

He shook his head. "It isn't something you _should_ get used to."

"Hmm. Tell yourself that after a half-functional teammate sacrifices himself so you can have the propulsion necessary to get off planet." Her tone was neither harsh nor bitter. _Accepting_ best described it.

A car horn sounded from behind them. Chromia swung the passenger side door open. "Impatient old codger."

Lennox hopped out. "I think he was translating for my wife." Sarah stood in the doorway with her arms crossed in the concerned way she always took when she knew he had been endangering himself off the clock. "It was nice to meet you, Chromia. You're welcome to visit here again. Ironhide comes by every so often when I'm home."

"Why, thank you, Captain Lennox. I probably will see you again."

He shut the door and waved goodbye to both her and Ironhide. He then turned and jogged up to the front door, picking straw and twigs from his clothes. Sarah held the screen door open. "What happened to you? Come on, get in here. I'll get the bacitracin and bandaids."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, as usual." Will followed her, grinning now that the danger had passed.

"I'm _sure,"_ she replied sarcastically but quietly. "Who was that you were driving with?"

"Mrs. Arcstrom. I finally got to meet her. She's a very nice lady."

"Is she anything like Mr. Arcstrom?"

"Exactly like him."

"That figures." Sarah guided him to an armchair. "Now let me patch up the paintball war wounds."

* * *

One hundred and fifty miles to the east the ground within an abandoned construction site ruptured into a fountain of soil and small rocks. There was only one witness, an imposing, silent gray and silver mech who stood amidst a haphazard stack of rusted girders. He watched the mechanical rodent that emerged from the hole, waiting for him to make the first move. 

Ratbat bowed as soon as he was clear of the dirt. "My apologies, my lord. The target was protected by _two_ Autobots. They overwhelmed me before I could escape with the human."

"Did you retain battle data?"

"Yes, I did. If you will allow me, I will be more prepared next time."

"See to your repairs. I will extract the data later."

"Yes, my lord." Ratbat slunk into the shadows of the bare structure's half-finished basement. He glanced back on the way, emitting a low batlike screech as his optics flared briefly.

* * *

Ironhide's bumper fell off twice more during their trek, once in a dark spot and the other right under a streetlight. He ran into it the second time and pushed it to the side, where he and Chromia waited until the trickle of traffic subsided long enough for her to transform and toss it into his bed. Then they continued on, Ironhide leading and Chromia staying the appropriate car length behind. They didn't talk much, other than Ironhide grumbling about the bumper and hoping no one in the oncoming lane noticed how symmetrical the break was. 

He was mulling over his feelings and trying to find the words to say to her. Of _course_ he was happy to see her, more than happy -- and that did not seem enough to say. He couldn't think of anything in either Cybertronian or an Earth language to express himself. The rush he had experienced from the encounter with an enemy and the concern for Lennox were fading now that it was over, leaving him with just the ache of knowing Chromia was so close. There was too much he wanted to say, it could take a century to say it all.

Meanwhile, similar thoughts were running through Chromia's processor. However, she decided to voice the next thing that came to her, using a secure line. "Ironhide, will you marry me?"

The Topkick's engine sputtered. "What??"

"It is a ritual that humans use to consecrate their partnership."

Of all the things to say, that one had _not_ occurred to him. Ironhide rolled to stop, hearing her brake behind him. After a few seconds he turned toward the shoulder and drove right onto the grass, heading upward along a hill. She followed, although unsure of what he was up to. He stopped at the top of the hill. There was no sign of anyone else in the area, and the late hour provided for no other vehicles on the road.

Ironhide transformed, letting his grill and half-bumper fall to the grass. He winced a little, but ignored any pain as he watched Chromia pull up and transform as well. He walked over to her and took one of her hands in his. A blueish glow came from behind the armor of his chest. In a few seconds, an answering glow came from the same spot on Chromia. She smiled at him, placing her other hand on top of his. They both lifted their heads to look at the stars, in time shuttering their optics. The two glowing spots began to pulse slowly, at first separately then synching up. Unshuttering their optics, they lowered their heads and gazed at one another.

Ironhide slipped his hands free and wrapped one arm around Chromia, drawing her close. She rested her head over his spark case, the light within still pulsing in time with hers. He rested his other hand on the back of her head.

The road home would no longer feel lonely.

**_To Be Continued_**


	2. Chapter 2

_(Author's note: Please excuse the lack of company designated vehicles. I didn't want to make everyone from the GM car line, but only time will tell which other car companies will get involved for the sequel(s))_

**Reunions - Part Two**

Ratchet rolled to the edge of the junkyard, scanning a dirt cloud approaching from the west. He was parked on one of the platforms that lowered into the base, disguised by strategically placed junk. On a word from the Secretary of Defense, the governor had granted the Autobots permission to build a base there -- providing they could keep it hidden and were absolutely sure no one would stumble upon it by accident. They assured him that their bases were always in disguise.

The base also had a misdirection field, but that was a secret.

Ratchet patched into the communications system, broadcasting to the entire underground facility. "Ironhide has returned. With company." He scanned both the truck and SUV as they came within range. He detected anomalies in the Topkick.

Optimus Prime replied back with a wary tone, "What _kind_ of company?"

"A blue-gray Chevrolet HHR with our symbol in the right corner of its front bumper. It appears that at least _one_ of the meteors that went his way turned out to be one of ours."

Another, up-tight sounding voice said, "It is about _time_ he came back. That was two days ago! _Much_ longer than his mission to Captain Lennox's dwelling should have taken!"

"He might have been injured," Ratchet said sharply. "A possible explanation for why he did not respond to our attempts to contact him."

"We shoulda just gone out to see for ourselves," said someone else, more laid-back than the first voice. Ratchet caught a strain of music before the comm closed.

"Optimus," the medic spoke up before anyone else put in their two cents, "Shall I go out to meet them?"

"Yes. I will be up in a moment."

"Yes, sir. Ratchet out." Before pulling out, he made sure no humans were nearby. He suppressed the urge to run his lights and siren as he drove down the dirt road and turned west.

The black Topkick slowed abruptly, the HHR almost bumping into it. Ironhide grumbled in annoyance. "Why did it have to be _Ratchet_ on perimeter duty?" A giggle came from the other vehicle.

The ambulance honked as it stopped in front of them, just to be cheeky. A holographic driver in an EMT uniform leaned out the window. "Well now, what have _you_ been up to all this time? I tried to call."

Ironhide's driver leaned out, looking his surliest. "Had to exterminate a very persistent _rodent."_

Ratchet sobered, knowing he wasn't talking about chihuahuas. He immediately assessed damages, taking in Ironhide's missing grill and half-front bumper. He backed up and turned toward the junkyard, now running his lights. The other two followed without another word.

The guard on duty saw the lights and hit the button for the garage door on the south entrance. There were several ways to get into the base, the garage being the most direct to the repair bay. Ratchet drove into the tunnel, closely followed by Ironhide and his guest. When he reached the door to the bay, Ratchet transformed and looked expectantly at Ironhide, who stopped, not transforming yet. Ratchet saw and then grabbed his missing parts from the truck's bed, then walked into the bay. He heard the sounding of transforming in stereo, then the other two Autobots came in. He glanced back to see a pained-looking Ironhide holding a hand to the damaged side of his chest. Behind him was--

"Chromia!" Ratchet hoped he hadn't sounded overly enthusiastic, as if he wanted to hug her -- which he did, out of gratitude for seeing her alive.

"Yes, I am." She smiled. "Now fix him."

"Yes, ma'am." Ratchet snapped off a salute with his free hand, then turned to Ironhide.

A few minutes into the diagnostic check Optimus walked in, blinking when he saw who had accompanied Ironhide. "Chromia, it is good to see you again."

"Sir." She saluted with more sincerity than Ratchet had shown earlier.

Optimus motioned for her to come with him into the hallway. She patted Ironhide's shoulder then followed. They walked a little ways down the corridor before Optimus spoke again. "You came to Earth alone, aside from your presumed quarry. Is there a reason you did not link up with the four-mech team that had been ahead of you?"

"Catching up to Ratbat was deemed more important. I discovered his orders to capture one of your native allies, so I pursued."

"Orders? Who was he working for?" Optimus lowered his head, not liking where the answers could lead.

"Was and _still is,_ sir," Chromia replied gravely.

Optimus jerked his head up. "Still is? You mean he reported in _here?"_

"I believe so."

Optimus rubbed at his right optic lense. "I have an idea who he reported to. We can only hope the rest of his personal army is still scattered."

"I followed Ratbat to four different planets. Not once did he link up with any of his brethren, and I did not intercept any messages for them."

"I am sorry, Chromia, but that does not mean much. He operates on so many levels that there is little anyone can do to keep up. However, we might have an edge. I will let Ratchet tell you about that. And I now ask you to file a report once Ironhide is back on his feet so I can get all of the details from both of you."

"Certainly, sir." She saluted again. "Thank you."

He clasped her raised hand and brought it down to waist level. "We are not standing on too much ceremony here for now. I may be at the top of command, but I want this place to represent friendship rather than a military organization."

A smiled formed on her face. "Optimus." He nodded, and she headed back to the bay.

Ratchet had Ironhide in vehicle mode on a work table so he could reattach his grill. Chromia slipped behind him and watched from beside his shoulder. "Taking notes?" he asked.

"I probably should, shouldn't I? What with the way he keeps falling apart." Chromia shot a conspiratorial look at the medic.

Ironhide growled. "Ratbat _ripped it off._ I am NOT falling apart!"

Chromia put her hands on her hips. "Can it, you old grouch. One day you will admit it."

"Wait -- hold it --" Ratchet threw out his hands as if to physically stop their words. _"Ratbat??_ What is _he_ doing here?"

Chromia patted his shoulder. "The same thing any Decepticon who appears here will be doing: bedeviling our attempts to live a peaceful life."

Ratchet scowled, huffing air out of his upper vents. "Well, at least we have enough numbers on our side now to start hunting _them_ down."

"You have become bitter." She patted his shoulder again.

"Yes, well, I am rather tired of those pests and would have liked a longer reprieve from them. It would figure that they would find someone else to rally around, and if Ratbat is an indication..."

"Prime said we might have a way to combat that particular threat."

"Mm-hmm." Ratchet suddenly put all his focus back on Ironhide's repairs. Chromia watched him, curious at the abrupt disinterest but she didn't try to drop other hints. She meandered away to look at the various things laying around the bay. It appeared that Ratchet had salvaged a lot of random parts from the junkyard itself, restoring anything that could still be used and even some things whose value was extremely questionable.

Without looking up, Ratchet called out, "Please do not touch anything."

Chromia snatched her hand back from a coffee pot she had been about to inspect. She glanced over the shelves one more time, then wandered over to the other work benches. Ratchet made adjustments to the half-bumper, next addressing the Topkick. "So, Ratbat attacked you while you were in vehicle mode because you dragged Lennox along."

Ironhide didn't respond, already knowing he had endangered the human. He had discussed the matter with Chromia and that was the only discussion he wanted to have about it.

"You should have listened to me," Ratchet went on, lifting the front of the truck to check the bottom of the bumper.

"Hn."

Ratchet sighed as he set the Topkick down on four wheels again. "All done. Mind those two spots for the next hour or so. Try to stay in one mode, too."

"I _can_ switch now, right?"

"Yes." Ratchet watched critically as Ironhide carefully shifted into robot mode. He nodded. "Looks fine. I am sure Optimus wants a report so you should probably get to it."

"Hn." Ironhide shrugged and walked over to Chromia, exchanging a few quiet words. Ratchet made an odd gesture that neither of them noticed. The cue taken, loud rock music began playing from the top of one of the shelves. Ironhide and Chromia looked up in confusion. "Ratch, what the heck is that supposed to be?"

The medic smirked. "Not what. Who."

A grey and silver mech, sporting some red that blurred as he moved, tumbled off the shelf to their left, still emitting music as he flipped and landed cleanly on two feet. He was shorter than the average human and just kept moving in a dance-like pattern as he greeted them. " 'Sup, cats?"

"Do not mind him," Ratchet chuckled. "He has been absorbing Earth music and slang since the moment he made landfall."

"Went off course an' hit a radio tower. I feel like these tunes're part'a my spark now. Woo!" The small mech spun around and threw his arms out.

Ironhide peered down at him in annoyance. Chromia looked thoughtful, trying to place the voice amidst the strange dialect. "Broadcast?" she guessed. "What happened to you?"

He shut off the music. "Long story, ladybot. I'll tell ya later, though. For now, we should get down an' party ta celebrate another successful landfall!"

Ratchet snorted. "Successful? We almost lost Tracks to that car show."

"Hey, the mech loves his public, what can I tell ya?" Broadcast shrugged. He then spun around and flipped into the air, landing on his hands and lowering his legs as he shifted around, the moves segueing into the change to alternate mode. A very large, yet still portable by human standards, rectangular stereo settled on the ground. He raised his single antennae and let out a squeal-like noise that seemed a derivative of Cybertronian.

Something clattered on the shelves. Chromia fixed Ratchet with an exasperated glare. "Just how much of this stuff is alive?"

"That," Ratchet said, waving one finger, "is a secret."

_Two_ somethings hit the floor, both matte gray as if waiting for polish and paint. They were half the size of Broadcast and twice as fast. They dashed around Ironhide, one smacking the back of his foot. "Tag!" said one.

"Tag!" said the other in the same voice as it smacked the same spot.

Ratchet laughed at Ironhide's further look of irritation. "Meet Rhythm and Blues. I made them yesterday from some of what I salvaged from Jazz. They do not have sparks of their own. Broadcast can control them by remote signals."

The two mini-mechs sidled up to the stereo and transformed into a pair of extra speakers. "Sweet, huh?" Broadcast asked. "I'm pretty honored, y'know. Didn't get ta chat with Jazz much after our teams split up near Tralaxian IV."

Ironhide's annoyance waned after hearing his words. He couldn't begrudge Broadcast's playfulness when it was meant as a lighthearted homage to Jazz.

Chromia nodded her approval. "I take it they will eventually perform infiltration missions?"

"Pretty much." Broadcast slid and flipped back to robot mode, Rhythm and Blues following suit. "We're workin' on gettin' a visual an' audio link between them an' me so I can see an' hear through them."

"So that is our edge," Chromia murmured, one hand clasping her chin. "It appears we are headed toward having the advantage."

Broadcast grinned and gave her a thumb's up. Rhythm and Blues imitated him with their four-fingered hands. Ironhide noticed that their head designs even looked like Jazz's, complete with visors over their optics.

Chromia studied Broadcast for a moment, still wondering about the downsize, then asked of anyone who might answer, "Who else landed the other night? Actually, I should ask who _all_ of the current residents are."

"Broadcast and Tracks, obviously," Ratchet answered. "I am no longer the only one with engineering tendencies -- some of that stuff belongs to Perceptor." He gestured to the shelves. "And some of it belongs to Rattlelatch."

Ironhide snorted. "A music enthusiast, a vainglorious warrior, a mech who knows every extensive word in the galaxy, and a thief. Yeah, we're shaping up great."

"Don't be so hard on 'Latch, man," Broadcast said. "He's been through a buncha stuff an' his habits saved us on a lotta occasions."

"Just as long as he sticks with reforming for good. We might tolerate it but the humans will not." Ironhide had caught Rattlelatch in the act many a time back on Cybertron. He knew the mech had a good spark, but he also had an irrepressible attraction to tinkering with bits of technology, especially when it did not belong to him.

"As I said, man, don't be so hard on him." Broadcast shook his head. "But I guess ya had t'be there."

_"Anyway,"_ Ratchet interrupted. "The rest of our current roster includes Windcharger, Gears, Arcee, Huffer, Moonracer, and Trailbreaker."

Ironhide ticked off the names on his fingers, adding in the surviving members of his own team. "Going to need another base soon."

Ratchet smirked. "Not until we start to get on each other's nerves."

"Ha," Chromia scoffed. "Between Huffer, Gears, Tracks, and _him,_ it will not take long." She gestured to Ironhide as she spoke.

"There are already shifts in place to avoid most of that." Ratchet motioned to Broadcast, who scampered over with Rhythm and Blues following, all three jumping from a bench to the work table. "Why don't you two go make your reports then put in recharge time?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Chromia said. She took Ironhide's hand and lead him out of the repair bay. She halted five steps down the corridor. "You lead."

He chuckled and carefully transformed, but then sped off. She transformed and followed, blaring her horn. Back in the bay, Ratchet tilted his head at the noise. "Ah, young love."

"What you talkin' 'bout, _'young'?_ Broadcast cried. "Those two're as ancient as ancient gets!"

"So am I. Now be quiet before these old hands accidentally miss and sever your vocalizer cords."

Up in the garage entrance Optimus Prime was having a final word with a small, olive green off road 4x4 and a maroon sedan. They confirmed their mission orders and headed out on a six hour trip that would retrace the path of the two recently arrived heavy weights.

Ironhide eventually lead Chromia to the second level of the base -- after a near-collision with Tracks that left the Chevy Z06 Corvette ranting away at them. The level resembled nothing so much as a parking lot. A mint green sedan was parked by the east wall, near a partition to another area.

Chromia opened a private line to Ironhide. "Very nice. You boys have done pretty well here."

"Eh...It isn't really much."

"It is better than trying to recharge on the fly. Or crammed into a shuttle."

"I agree, but I am adapted to those solutions." He pulled into a spot right in the middle, sinking down on his axles. Chromia parked next to him and let out a content sigh. In a few minutes both had settled into a peaceful recharge.

Some six hours later a maroon sedan approached the driveway to a home on a hill. It was getting late in the evening but there was hope of catching the attention of the residents. An olive green off road 4x4 pulled up behind the sedan and immediately began to grumble about the chill in the air. The sedan whispered, "Gears! Do not start again! I told you I am not interested in listening to you complain! I am trying to think how to alert them."

"What is there to think about?" The smaller vehicle honked his horn, once in a short burst, then a second, longer one.

The sedan sighed.

A few moments later the front porchlight came on and a male figure appeared in the doorway. Gears honked again. The sedan hissed for him to stop. The 4x4 drove forward and bumped into him as an answer. Another sigh was emitted.

Lennox stepped outside and walked down the front path. "Are you boys done disturbing the neighbors? I don't believe we've met but I think I have an idea who you are." He stopped at the front of the sedan and placed his hand over the Autobot emblem beside the car manufacturer's logo.

"I apologize for my companion, Captain Lennox. I am Windcharger, this is Gears. Optimus Prime has sent us to guard you."

"Guard me?" Will raised an eyebrow.

"He concluded from Ironhide's damage and proximity to you that you were at risk. We do need to hear your account of events, if you would oblige."

"Um, can this wait until morning? It's going to take a while to explain, and I'd like to sleep tonight."

Gears began to grumble, but Windcharger quickly said, "That would be fine. We could use a recharge. _Right,_ Gears?"

"Meh," was the reply.

Lennox chuckled. "Thank you. And it's nice to meet you."

_"It's..._ nice to meet you, as well," Windcharger tried out the contraction. Humans talked so strangely. Although, he knew he had to get used to it with Broadcast around now to coordinate communications. The language that mech picked up...

Speaking of which, he needed to confirm their arrival. He opened a line to the Autobot base. "This is Windcharger reporting in. We have made contact with the Captain. Duties scheduled to begin in the morning."

"This is Autobase One, Perceptor speaking."

_If it is not one mech I cannot understand, it is another. _Windcharger sighed to himself. "All clear at the moment. Thank you for acknowledging." He hoped Perceptor would not have any additional orders to pass along.

A green compact car traveling _close_ to the speed limit made a turn onto a suburban street, moving smoothly around a parked plumber's van and avoiding a garbage can that had been knocked over. A hot pink motorcycle followed, its female rider wearing a full bodysuit and matching helmet. The small car took a left, skidding slightly.

A female voice came across the car's radio. "Take it easy, Rattlelatch. It will be difficult to explain if the local authorities arrest you."

"Relax, Arcee. I know the limits. I merely cannot help hitting them -- do you _know_ how good it feels to have clear pavement under your tires?"

"Yes, I do. And I appreciate it enough to go _slower_ than the limits so I do not test the patience of the natives."

The car slowed down as if heeding her advice. He sighed. "Humans and their rules. They cannot even design a roadway correctly!"

"And what would _you_ know about transport architecture?" Arcee asked with good-natured humor.

"The way these access roads are laid out lends no sense of planning! It appears they built it based _solely_ on the land!"

"That _is_ how the humans build things. They do not always have the equipment necessary to clear an area, so they design based on the topography."

His response was a sarcastic, _"Ohhh."_

"You know, I had a feeling it was too early for you to leave the base."

"No better way to learn than from your own experience!" Rattlelatch shot back cheerfully.

"Yes," she replied dryly, "Do feel free to _share_ some of your experiences."

He slowed down as they entered a street marked with a dead-end sign. Arcee drove past him, her driver glancing at his windshield. He had tinted windows that were difficult to see into, so she didn't know if he even _had_ a holographic driver set up. "Did I get you with that one? To be honest, Rattlelatch, you _are_ treating this planet like it is just a game. We are _safe_ here and while we must accustom ourselves to their culture, this place will eventually feel like home. Try to give it more respect."

Rattlelatch made no response as he followed the curve at the end of the street. He continued on a little slower, then abruptly hit the speed limit again. Arcee sighed to herself, hoping every survivor who came to Earth wasn't going to be reckless. She couldn't remember Rattlelatch as being rebellious. He had been rather meek the last time she had seen him. But she admitted that a lot could change over a few hundred years.

A slate blue, open-bed pick up truck meandered through the junkyard above Autobase One, muttering to itself as it scanned one area after another. The search was on for a certain car part, and if not the part itself, then something that could be modified into it. At times the truck pulled up alongside a pile and extended the single door of its cab toward the pile to obtain better readings. After half an hour of work, the truck transformed into a compact robot who promptly smashed his arm into the top half of the pile he had just scanned, then dug through the revealed layer to pull out a carburetor that had seen better days -- perhaps thirty years back.

He peered at it and grumbled under his vocalization processor, then moved to place it with several other items he had found. He glanced over the mismatched collection, muttered some more, then returned to his search. He also checked his chronometer. Any nanosecond now...

"HUFFER!" the predicted voice called out. "Report in! It is your turn at watch and this sun is fading my paint!" Five minutes passed and the compact mech didn't turn away from his search. At that point a taller mech of blue and dark gray came around the corner, his face the very picture of irritation. "Are you going to wait all day to respond?!"

"Can it, Tracks. You _do_ understand that I am out here for the incredibly difficult task of finding parts that are already half-useless as it is, in order to _somehow_ turn them into something that _might_ function in a way that can serve to repair _your_ sorry hind end next time you get into a fender-bender because you were too busy looking at your reflection in a store front window, do you not?"

Tracks scowled.

"Hmph, that is what I thought. Help me bring this junk to the base, then I will take over for Your Whineness at the watch." Huffer transformed and backed up so his truck bed was exactly next to the pile. "Well, get loading! I cannot move it all by myself _and_ carry it, too!"

"You cannot move _any_ of it yourself," Tracks corrected tersely, but finally bent to place the collected items into the truck's bed.

"Make sure you do not scratch my paint!" Huffer called in a sarcastic tone.

With Ironhide and Chromia present, further miscalculations in the watch schedule would surely be fixed.

In a field near a row of houses, the high grass appeared to part for just an instant. The handful of people walking nearby dismissed it as a rabbit or one of the birds that preferred to hop instead of fly. If anyone had looked closer, they would have either run or froze and prayed the cougar would ignore them for their lack of motion.

Certainly none of them would look close enough to see the creature was covered in camouflaged metal instead of fur and had subtle red pinpricks of light in the middle of its "eyes".

Either way it would have ignored every human except one, who happened to not be present at that moment. He would succeed where Ratbat had failed.

To Be Continued 

_Transformers are property of Hasbro/Takara/Dreamworks/etc. Rattlelatch and Rhythm and Blues belong to the author._


	3. Chapter 3

**Reunions - Part Three**

_Author's Note, added later on 8/23/07: Section breaks hopefully added correctly this time. I thought I had marked each one correctly, but it looks like I fail at FFNet formatting. I hope I get it right in the rest of the chapters. Sorry for the rough read, it should look better now. prays  
_

* * *

Lennox stretched as he yawned, padding over to the window to try to gauge the temperature outside by the breeze, or lack thereof. He ended up snapping his jaw shut upon seeing the two unfamiliar vehicles in his driveway. Then the sleep-hazy memory of the previous night came back to him, and he sighed loudly.

"What is it, Will?" Sarah called sleepily.

"Visitors," he mumbled. "I wish they would just set up camp here."

Her response was a bewildered, "What..?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Two of Arcstrom's friends arrived last night. I need to debrief them on what went down the other day."

"I'm starting to think they bring trouble with them. What do they want?"

"I'll find out after breakfast." Will rubbed his eyes and staggered toward the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Windcharger was snoring. Gears tried to ignore it, but finally gave up and bumped the back of the sedan. "You have gall scolding me about noise! Did Ratchet not fix the problem with your intakes?"

"Hmm-what?" came the bleary reply.

"Oh, go back to recharge mode," Gears sighed. "I will let you know when Captain Lennox comes out."

" 'Captain' isn't my first name," Will said, having caught the last whispered comment as he stepped off the path. He finished off the last piece of a bagel and waited, expecting another Q&A session with aliens naive to human customs.

"Yes, yes, I am aware. I was showing respect. Shall we proceed with the details of the incident involving Ratbat? Windcharger, wake up!" Gears honked his horn.

Lennox tapped the green vehicle's hood. "Could you keep it down, please? I have a sleeping baby in the house and we prefer to let her sleep for as long as the heaven's allow."

"No timed recharge?" Windcharger asked curiously.

"Unfortunately, no. She's a growing girl but hasn't gotten out of the fussy stage yet. By the way, can I sit down for this?"

There was a moment's debate between the two vehicles, then Gears opened his passenger side door. "I am not used to having a passenger, so..."

"Don't worry. I've hitched a ride enough lately to know not to be a hindrance." Lennox slid into the seat and glanced at the radio. "You listening in, Windcharger?"

"I read you loud and clear."

"All right. Here's what happened." Lennox recounted his experience of seeing a protoform land and subsequent kidnapping by a Decepticon. He described his rescue and Ratbat's assault on Ironhide, and the intervention by Chromia. He also admitted his unease over Ratbat's escape. He would have preferred to have seen the mechanical rodent in pieces. The two Autobots agreed.

After a few questions were answered, Windcharger and Gears shared thoughts with each other, then enlightened Lennox. "The concern over Ratbat appearing," Windcharger said, "Is that he is known to work with a certain group, and where there is one of them, there are others."

"How many others?" Lennox asked, clasping his chin as he began a mental list of who to call in.

"We do not have a current roster. We know of eight, including Ratbat, with at least two confirmed terminated."

"So, I only need to worry about five of them?" Will glanced around as if expecting said Decepticons to have surrounded them while they had been talking.

"No," Gears huffed, "There is a high percentage chance their master built more in the past two millennia."

Lennox sighed and shook his head, clasping the handle to open the door. "I have to put in a call. I can't sit and wait to see what _might_ show up. I don't doubt your skills as warriors, but with the numbers you're suggesting, I won't take a chance waiting to see for myself."

"You are allowed to do as you like," Windcharger said, puzzled by the human's defensive tone. "From what I was told of the actions of your military team, I would like for them to be informed. They are very brave warriors."

Lennox nodded as he stepped clear of Gears. "I'll see if I can pull some strings to get the boys together. Don't want to set off a panic, but we seriously need to be prepared. Ratbat was more than enough proof for me, and if Ironhide or Chromia can send visual evidence to your guy in DC, we'll be able to convince the Secretary of Defense and the President that it's time to act again."

From somewhere nearby the cry of a mountain lion echoed off the side of the house. Lennox spun around, but there was nothing to be seen. The wildlife was getting more bold each day.

* * *

Ratchet peered around at the Autobots gathered in the repair bay. Perceptor and Huffer were engaged in a discussion involving a lot of pointing by the latter. Rattlelatch was poking at the pile of parts on the table in front of him while Moonracer was chatting with Broadcast. The communications officer was there so Ratchet could continue work on his remote connections with Rhythm and Blues. The others had assignments to carry out. 

"May I have your attention, please?" The medic called out. They didn't quiet down immediately, so he slammed a fist down on his work table and repeated calmly, "Your attention. Thank you." He looked around at them one more time before continuing. "I have sent you the schematics for what I need each team to build today. I trust there will be _no_ arguing." He glanced pointedly at Huffer. "It is important that we stay focused. I know everyone has been venting their frustration over the war, but your energies would be best spent doing something constructive."

Huffer and Rattlelatch both lowered their heads in silent acknowledgment of the reprimand.

"I am giving you something constructive to do." Ratchet gestured to the tables in front of the group, folding his arms as the only signal they should have needed to begin. He watched Huffer in particular, but the shorter bot was already into the job, projecting a three-dimensional light version of the assembly assigned to himself and Perceptor. Rattlelatch began pointing out the first series of parts to Moonracer, who slapped a wrench against one palm as she nodded along.

Ratchet gave a pleased smile and looked toward his own pile of components. Broadcast was on his way over, although he had yet to call Rhythm and Blues down from their shelf. "Hey, doc," the small mech said thoughtfully -- and quietly -- as he climbed onto the table. "You think this's gonna work?"

_"What_ is?"

"This base. This crew. I mean, I'm pickin' up squabblin' all over the lines. It's like so much time apart amped up ev'rybody's most annoyin' qualities."

"I think," Ratchet said slowly, still mulling things over as he spoke, "Everyone needs time to adjust. We have all become accustomed to traveling in small groups. I assume you have not heard disention when one member of a team is with another of that same team?" Broadcast nodded. "I believe everyone will settle down over time. We all wanted this in our sparks, after all. To rebuild our community and be free to function as we choose."

Broadcast nodded again. "Rock on, m'man."

Ratchet blinked and stared at him, then muttered, "I am going to perform a diagnostic on your vocal processor..."

"Hey now, what were we just talkin' about? Gotta accept ev'ryone as they are t'make this reunion party work. Just 'cause I'm talkin' like this don't mean I got a glitch." His antennae array perked up. "Hey, that rhymed."

Ratchet snorted. "Please do not make it a habit."

"Just havin' fun, Ratch. C'mon, let's get down to business." His antennae settled back into position. Rhythm and Blues emerged from one of the bottoms shelves, performing flips and somersaults on their way to the work table.

* * *

Ironhide and Chromia caught up to Optimus as he was relieving Arcee from watch. The two females exchanged greetings while Ironhide gestured for his leader to step aside with him. "Did you receive the reports, Optimus?" 

"Yes, and acted on them." Optimus put a hand on the warrior's shoulder, knowing what reaction would meet his next words. "I sent Windcharger and Gears to guard William and his family. They will report immediately if any trace of a Decepticon appears."

Ironhide's optics flared. _"I_ could have easily turned around and remained there!"

"You were damaged." Optimus raised a hand to stop the upcoming protest. "It was better that you and Chromia returned here."

_"How_ are we to get to the scene in time if there is trouble again?!"

"We have Tracks now. Also, do not forget that Windcharger and Gears are warriors proven in their own right."

"I'm going back." Ironhide scowled and turned -- and bumped right into Chromia. He grabbed for her arm to steady her.

"Oh!" She blinked at him, then looked from him to Optimus and back. "What was that about?"

"Optimus sent others to guard Will, thinking he could still be in danger. I -- _I_ should have thought of such a chance and remained there!" Ironhide clenched his fists.

Chromia patted his arm. "We were both sufficiently distracted and overlooked the possibility of another attack."

Ironhide pushed her hand away. "But I should have realized it!" He turned to stomp down the hall. "I will have Ratchet run a diagnostic. If my systems are all green, I am going back out there."

Chromia watched him leave, then traded glances with Optimus. "He is being perceptive of his age. On our return journey he told me he regretted endangering the life of William Lennox, since he was the one who suspected it was a Decepticon they would be facing."

Optimus nodded. "I feared he would view it that way. He is very fond of William as his friend, although he knows William is trained as a professional soldier. Do you wish to accompany him?"

"If it will not short staff the base, yes."

"It will not." Optimus paused, then added, "Please keep watch on him."

"Of course I will." Chromia saluted out of habit then hurried after Ironhide. She slapped a hand down on his right shoulder and yanked him around to face her. "Are you questioning the abilities of your fellow Autobots?! There are potential assignments elsewhere that require your skills! If there is a threat of more Decepticons, you should be here, helping to plan an offense." He tried to pull away but she held on stubbornly and continued, "There could be people _other_ than William who are in danger -- he is not our _only_ human ally."

Ironhide started to growl something but she met his optics, initiating a glaring contest. Neither backed down. Chromia tightened her grip, then shoved her face up close to his, demanding, "Present your answer, soldier!"

"I acknowledge!" Ironhide finally spoke, his voice still a growl. "I am accountable for the harm that could come to designation: Captain Lennox!"

The formal response made Chromia release him, but she held her glare. "You were released from that responsibility. He is in capable hands. You know your duty. If your commanding officer orders you to provide back up, then you go. But you were not given that order!" She stepped back, folding her arms across her chest.

Ironhide tried to stare her down, but it could only end in a stalemate. He said calmly, "No one dares to challenge me like that."

"Get used to it," she warned, although her voice was softer now. "The more Autobots that arrive, the more we will _all_ have to adjust to a larger group. I can tell you are accustomed to planning for the four members of your team. The others are accustomed to the same smaller numbers. We must learn to trust each other again, since all we have known for the past several centuries are those few numbers." She paused, once more meeting his optics. "And I may not be the only one accustomed to being alone. However, I remember where my place was, and even though Optimus said I need not worry about rank at this time, I will still abide by it."

"I would expect nothing less from a former colonel."

Chromia nodded once. "I will understand if Prime restructures the entire command chain based on who returns. Until then, we must try to act rationally."

Ironhide still looked annoyed, but took an at-ease stance. "I would feel better knowing the status of Will and his family."

"Than _ask_ what you can do to help instead of charging off."

He looked her up and down. "This, from the femme who took off after Ratbat without being certain her backup was following."

"As I recall, I had to save you _because_ you did not keep up."

"I provided a distraction in order for you to damage him further."

"I am _quite_ certain that was your strategy all along."

While the two traded jabs, Optimus came up behind them. "Ah, good. Thank you for detaining him, Chromia. Ironhide, I have an assignment for you." He smiled to himself, glad to see the two back together. They acted as the voice of reason to each other. If one of them went off half-cocked, the other would attempt to ground them. Worked every time.

* * *

Rattlelatch glanced from the helf-assembled device in front of him to where Ratchet stood tinkering with Blues. The shorter green mech deactivated the micro laser that formed out of his right arm, then slowly approached the medic's table, hoping Ratchet would notice him so he wouldn't have to interrupt. 

Ratchet did notice, and set down his tools to raise a hand to his face and scratch one of the tusk-like projections beside his mouth, eying Rattlelatch in a way that warned him the interruption had better be important.

"I, uh, devised several alternate modifications for the device Moonracer and I are building. I understand the intention you had when you designed it. However, if I could offer suggestions?" If Arcee had been there she would have seen that Rattlelatch was still meek around higher-ranking bots.

Ratchet gave a small smile. "I was hoping someone would. Go ahead."

A little startled at being given a chance so easily, Rattlelatch gathered his thoughts again before speaking. "Based on the original schematics, three modifications could add to the flight maneuverability and greatly increase the speed to almost sonic levels."

Ratchet nodded as the shorter bot went into the technical details, impressed by how much more engineering knowledge Rattlelatch was applying as opposed to quick fixes. The latter knowledge was still useful at times, but Rattlelatch needed to choose an actual professional approach. He nodded one final time. "I concur. Make the adjustments and perhaps we can field test it by this evening."

A smile lit Rattlelatch's face. "We will start immediately." He turned away but stopped and looked back at the medic. "Thank you."

"You are welcome. Now, hurry." Ratchet made a shooing motion, then returned to his work.

Meanwhile, Broadcast had been sitting at the far end of the table, looking bored as he put Rhythm through some paces. The boombox had his head propped on one fist, elbow balanced on his thigh while he directed the miniature mech with his other hand. "Say, Ratch? Are we done for the day?"

"What are you now in a hurry for?" Ratchet jerked his hand back from a sudden burst of sparks in Blues' secondary processor. The medic muttered about crossed wires and proceeded to fix the issue.

"Just because I can coordinate the lines from here don't mean I want to _stay_ here all day. Got things to do, y'know."

"Such as..?"

"Studyin' some more human culture. It'd be nice t' finish gettin' a grasp on things before I get on the air with the government."

"I am sure they will appreciate the culture shock," Ratchet said with a dry chuckle.

"But that's my point about studyin'--"

"Rock music and street slang are generally not part of human politics."

Broadcast scowled. "Buncha squares."

Ratchet laughed louder this time, drawing glances from the others. He looked pointedly at Broadcast so they knew why. There were nods and everyone returned to their work. After a few minutes Perceptor approached to give _his_ idea for modifications. Inside Ratchet was grinning like a maniac. He would have a formidable science and engineering team in no time.

* * *

Chromia watched Ironhide and Tracks face off with more than a little irritation. Ironhide had been correct to use the term 'vainglorious'. She had plenty of descriptions she could add to that. She sensed that Tracks had a reason for his bravado, but the blue mech needed to learn to suppress that -- and _quickly._ Not just because they were scheduled to roll out in the next hour, but because it would not do to continue clashing with his senior officer. 

Which was, unfortunately, the root of the problem.

Tracks jabbed a thumb toward himself. _"I_ am more suited to lead this mission! As I understand it, your approaches are still antiquated. It will take someone _much_ younger to coordinate a proper--"

"BLOW IT OUT YOUR EXHAUST PIPE!" came Ironhide's interruption. Chromia couldn't help but laugh at the flattened look on Tracks' face. It appeared he hadn't expected the seasoned warrior to switch to high volume so soon. Ironhide snorted and loomed closer to the younger mech. "Go ask Prime yourself if you want to second-guess his decision. _I_ lead, you follow, and _you_ are to be ready at a nanosecond to take off for the hot zone! If you have difficulty with _that,_ I will find another way even if I have to ask Prime to _order_ someone to _reformat._ You chose to keep your flight mode, so accept that you will be under someone who _will_ order you to _put it to use!"_

Tracks thrust his chest forward and lifted his head to indicate he would not be intimidated by the taller mech. "Well then, at _that_ point I would relinquish command to you. I have recent experience with interspecies liaisons and battle, while _you_ have been resting on your struts for the past six months!"

Ironhide's cannons formed up and his optics flared. Chromia tensed to intervene. "Then what would you call the incident from three days ago?"

"Careless," Tracks proclaimed with a dismissing wave of his hand. Ironhide whipped both cannons up but they were knocked aside even more quickly by two swipes of Tracks' right arm. In the same instant the blue mech brought up his left arm and had a laser gun muzzle pointed at Ironhide's ruined right-side face plating. "You see? My reaction time is far superior."

Ironhide seethed. Chromia could feel it and knew Tracks was in for a world of hurt when there was time for Ironhide to put him in his place. She watched them for a second longer then formed up her arm cannon and fired a low-strength but still bright pulse blast between them, barely missing armor on both of them. _"I_ lead, you will both _be silent."_

Tracks still looked resentful, but he nodded, glaring at Ironhide once more before turning to stalk off toward the garage exit.

Ironhide glared after him with narrowed optics, growling unintelligibly. Chromia patted his shoulder. "He will learn. Do not let it hinder our assignment."

"Hmph. I have to _look_ at him the entire time, do I not?"

"Consider it in this manner: If you are looking at him, it means he has not been sent to deal with an emergency elsewhere." She peered at him keenly, waiting for the line of logic to sink in.

He grumbled an agreement.

She smacked the back of his shoulder. "You must calm down. You and Tracks have the same problem: you are looking for a battle. I have no doubt that we will find one. _Then_ you can expend your energies."

"Tell _him_ that." Ironhide gestured after Tracks.

"I will, later. Right now I know _you_ will listen." She smiled, then headed for the entrance as well. Ironhide scowled but followed.

When they reached the garage, the communication unit on the wall buzzed, then Broadcast's voice issued forth. "Hey, before you two go, could you send me any visual data you got on the Ratbat fight? I got a suggestion from Windcharger t' pass the word around."

They both gave an affirmative, accessing their links to the communications hub and sending the requested files over. "Got 'em. Thanks much. Good luck on your mission. Tracks, behave, man."

The blue mech elbowed Ironhide aside so he could get closer to the speaker. "I have _already_ been reprimanded, Broadcast, _thank you."_

"Man, that is exactly what I meant. Take a chill pill, bro. Your public awaits, after all."

Tracks made an agreeing noise, not wanting to snap at Broadcast but equally not wanting to drop his anger in front of Ironhide.

"If you find anythin' at all interestin', send it to me stat. We gotta get confirmation on this situation an' bottle it up asap."

Ironhide tapped his fingers beside the comm unit. "As if we didn't know that. Rolling out, now."

Broadcast noted that there was more than one bot who needed to chill.

* * *

Secretary of Defense John Keller felt the corners of his mouth pull down as the black Buick LaCrosse identical to his own car, except for a stylized hood ornament, slipped into the parking spot beside his own. Without hesitation he opened the passenger side door of the newly arrived car and sat down, closing the door after himself. "What news have you got, Trailbreaker?" 

A panel opened on the dashboard and a small monitor and keyboard slid out. Text scrolled across the screen to denote a date, time, and location. "I regret to inform you, John, that we have discovered Decepticon activity. According to reports by Ironhide and a recently arrived Autobot, Chromia, the spy designated Ratbat attempted to kidnap William Lennox. Ironhide and Chromia prevented this, but Ratbat escaped. We have already sent two other Autobots to watch Lennox, but we are concerned that other humans involved in the Allspark incident may also be at risk. We have begun to spread what resources we have to prevent further attacks."

"So you'll be staying in the carport tonight."

"Yes, sir. I apologize for any inconvenience."

Keller chuckled. "There is no inconvenience with you taking the place of my car. Please give me any other details you know."

"Ironhide, Chromia, and Tracks are en route to check on the others, starting with Robert Epps. We will try to contact several others by phone once our communications officer has adapted more of his internal connections. The only person we do not have contact information for is Simmons."

"He's a difficult man to pin down. My boys can get the information for you."

"Thank you." There was silence for a moment, then a new image filled the screen. It was streaming live, and showed a gray and maroon robot wrestling with what appeared to be a cougar...except it was a cougar with huge metal claws and a pair of missiles extended from either side of its haunches. The scrolling text on the bottom indicated time, location, and identified the cameraman as 'Gears'.

As they watched, the bot on screen kicked the cat off himself, launching it several dozen feet into a country road. The missiles on the cat fired. The air around the mech's forearm suddenly warped strangely, and when the missiles closed in, the bot made a spinning motion with his arms then pointed back to the cat. The missiles curved around through the air and headed back toward the cougar, who leaped out of the way. But another gesture sent the missiles following after their new target. They caught up and exploded into the cat, flinging it into a nearby hillside.

Then the cameramech rushed toward it and pounced, pummeling the cat with his bare hands.

Trailbreaker explained grimly, "Windcharger and Gears have engaged Ravage near the dwelling of William Lennox."

**To Be Continued**


	4. Chapter 4

**Reunions - Part Four**

Lennox had scrambled backward when the cougar leapt out of the high grass and tried to pin him like a mouse. It did a fairly good impression of the big cat compared to previous encounters with animal-like mechanoids, but he saw -- from an uncomfortably close view -- the irregular shape and size of its teeth. They snapped shut less than two inches from his face, giving him a _very_ good view of them. His hands automatically began pulling the rest of his body backward with an assist from his feet. His mind, meanwhile, was reeling. These smaller Decepticons were just as terrifying as the big ones.

The day had been uneventful until the evening. That afternoon his wife had taken Windcharger to the grocery store, a learning experience for her since she had rarely ridden in an Autobot before but had enjoyed the conversation, and even Annabelle seemed to like their new car. In the meantime, Will had attempted to have a conversation with Gears that didn't devolve into the mech grousing about something related to the topic by a six degree separation.

It was after dinner when Lennox went for a short walk to think things over by himself. The thought that repeatedly came to him was that if the Decepticons wanted _only_ him, he would be better off going to Autobase One to avoid any trouble for bystanders, who the Decepticons were, he prayed, unaware of. The thought of those monsters taking his wife and daughter hostage made his blood run cold. If it was true that there were more of them, he would ask the Secretary of Defense himself to put together a team to hunt them down first.

It was shortly after that when the open field to his left exploded into flying, snarling mountain cat of doom.

He had to hand it to Windcharger and Gears -- they were fast to respond. Somewhere during fleeing to keep his backside from being shredded they both transformed and dove to intervene. Gears had plowed his shoulder into the cat, sending it flying, but in keeping with its organic counterparts it landed on its feet. Its side panels then shifted around to allow a pair of missile launchers to deploy. Windcharger tackled the cat next as the projectiles were fired, then Gears moved in again. It appeared that his only weapon was his own brute strength. Lennox was fine with that as long as the Decepticon was the only one getting hurt, and also if it kept the cat busy so he could decide the best course of action.

Windcharger ran to the edge of the field. "Gears! _Pull!"_

The other Autobot got a solid two-handed grasp on the cougar and tossed it skyward. Windcharger concentrated his magnetic ability on the Decepticon and threw his hands downward. The cat abruptly switched directions and slammed into the ground with the force of a meteor impact. Gears dusted his hands off and walked over to peer into the resulting crater. "Nice form, Windcharger."

Before Windcharger could reply, a shout from Lennox grabbed their attention. The two Autobots spun around to see a hawk-like form carrying the human off into the air. Windcharger clenched his fists. "Squawktalk! I cannot use the same trick as with Ravage without endangering Will!"

"Target _me,"_ Gears said, then dashed after the gliding robotic bird. Something hissed within both of his lower legs, panels shifting as he ran. With a great burst of air pressure and a leap, he was in the air, angling toward the Decepticon's flightpath. He couldn't remain completely on target, but that was where Windcharger came in. He carefully homed his powers in on Gears and succeeded in directing him close enough to grab hold of Squawktalk and begin to weigh him down. The Decepticon screeched and tried to roll over to dislodge his uninvited passenger but Gears' weight forced the bird to remain upright. Lennox attempted to wriggle free of the foot that had loosened when Gears grabbed hold. Squawktalk was too busy protesting to notice his captive escape. Lennox climbed along the limb, grateful for the overlapping plates that offered handholds. He made it to a close enough range to make a leap for Gears' arm. The Autobot quickly shifted to give the human a better shot and moved his arm so that Lennox actually slid under an armor plate. Then Gears let go of Squawktalk.

Will grasped a cable and held on for dear life, hoping an incidental shift of armor wouldn't cause him to be crushed. But nothing of the sort happened; in fact, there was a distinct lack of a dropping sensation. He couldn't see from the angle he was laying at, but there seemed to be a sound of air hissing from somewhere below him. He didn't know how, but something was buffering their descent.

Windcharger walked up as they landed. "I think we have more than enough evidence now. I sent recordings to the base."

Gears nodded as he set Lennox on the ground. "I was sending mine real time. Now we need to collect Ravage and we will have--"

Squawktalk swooped by overhead and dove toward the crater. Neither Autobot could move in time to stop the bird from grabbing Ravage and flying off. Gears growled, "Nothing."

Lennox collapsed to the ground, scrubbing his hair in a stressful fashion. "So they _are_ after me. What about my family? If I leave, will they come after my wife and kid?"

Windcharger glanced over at him, looking sympathetic. "I think it would be good for them to relocate for the time being, but you need to go somewhere you would be better protected, and where we could coordinate an ambush to capture one of that brood and find out what is occurring here."

"From what I gather," Will replied, "They could be after me to get information, since I'm one of your closest allies and I discuss just about everything with Ironhide on a regular basis."

"Is he not using a dampening field each time?" Gears asked.

"He said he was, but he doesn't have anything to make him invisible, so if they found me and had a spy set up..." Lennox shook his head. "I was careless. I figured we would have more time. Megatron didn't strike me as the type to send a distress signal -- because why else would it have taken so long for the other Decepticons to find him?" Windcharger nodded thoughtfully.

"Well," Gears said, "It was unlikely that they were searching for Megatron but more for the Cube -- especially with Starscream at the helm."

"The jet," Lennox reconfirmed.

"Yes. He and Megatron had a history of disagreeing, but Megatron kept him as his second in command regardless. We knew Starscream's tactics well, so when Megatron disappeared, we thought we would have a better chance at recovery. But Starscream managed to get the Decepticons organized enough to begin their own search for the Cube."

"Hmm," Lennox mumbled, running his hand through his hair again. He knew that remaining at the house was not an option, but he couldn't take Sarah and Annabelle to the Autobot base. He had to tell someone, and soon. He wanted to get up and go in the house, but his mind kept jumping from one option to another. This wasn't like being in a chopper on its way to a destination in a foreign land with his family safe thousands of miles away. This was pretty much literally in his own backyard.

Windcharger lowered himself beside the human. "You appear disoriented, Will. Are you functioning properly?"

Lennox shook his head. "To be honest, I'm not. Too much to think about at once. I can't switch modes right now."

At that moment the bots transformed, hastily arranging themselves as cars parked on the side of the road. "Very funny," Lennox muttered as he picked himself up and brushed the dirt off his clothes. Neither responded. A moment later a black van pulled up across the street from them. A second van stopped a little farther up. Lennox surreptitiously watched them from the corner of his eyes. He realized he was going to be paranoid about every vehicle that came within fifteen feet of him for the next few days.

But the driver's side door of the near van opened and someone who _was_ familiar stepped out. "Will, good to see you again -- especially seein' you safe," Tom Banachek said, stretching out a hand to greet Lennox. Will complied and shook his hand, Banachek adding another hand on top then letting go. "Especially alive," he repeated.

"Glad we established that," Lennox said with slight sarcasm. He had developed a dislike for any former Sector Seven agent, and a former Sector Seven agent who showed up not just driving a van but with an extra one in tow had to be up to something. "What are you doing here?"

"We're here to ensure your family's safety and make you an offer, if you're interested." Banachek looked at him hopefully.

"Who is 'we'?" Will pressed. Whatever organization Banachek was running this time, he _wasn't_ interested -- and resented being approached, nevermind the question of how he knew Lennox was in trouble. "And _why_ are you here at all?"

Tom stepped back. "I'm sorry, I'm gettin' ahead of myself. I'm leadin' a small but dedicated government-funded operation intended to learn more about our friends from Cybertron, with their consent, to help with integratin' 'em into our society. We hope to develop relations to the point where their presence can be revealed to the general public. Seein' as it's inevitable, we may as well try to do it right. We're also a response team to investigate any trouble. I'm sorry we learned too late you were a target or we woulda been here sooner."

"So...you were spying on me, too?" Lennox asked vehemently.

Banachek was startled by Will's anger. "Oh, no...but we have considered approachin' you before about joinin', and we also have a partial news feed from the Autobase to have some information on the latest planetfalls. Optimus Prime hadn't agreed to givin' us access until today."

Lennox continued to be unhappy with the whole thing. While Banachek had seemed honest during the N.B.E. incident, Will didn't like the idea that he could have been filming the latest battle and conveniently showed up _after_ it was over. He turned away, tapping his knuckles across Windcharger's trunk as he moved. "I take it you want me to join right away? What about my military duties? I'm still on leave now, but I haven't been fully discharged."

"You get a full transfer. We could really use your tactical expertise."

"I'm not convinced." Lennox folded his arms while casually leaning against Gears' front bumper.

Banachek glanced toward the first van. The sound of a sliding door came from the far side, then a caucasian man in a suit came around the back. He looked sharp -- and vastly different from the last time Lennox had seen him. The battle at Mission City had left him covered in dirt and the other effects of a long, difficult fight against impossible odds.

"Breckstein! Man, is it good to see you!" Lennox dropped his cold attitude and went to shake hands with one of the surviving members of his Qatar team, next clasping him in a fraternal hug -- which doubled as a means to whisper to him, "In on this, huh? Better not be a bunch of malarkey."

"I made sure, myself," Eugene Breckstein whispered back. "It's all legit."

"Hmm," Lennox acknowledged, but the look he gave Banachek as Eugene stepped back was still not pleased.

Tom knew it, too. "Would you at least be willin' to find out a little more? You have absolutely no obligation to join. You _will_ have to come to our headquarters to get the full story..." he trailed off at yet another disapproving glance. "Look, I can only tell you so much without visual aid. I'll leave that entire van full of trained interceptors to guard your family." He nodded to the second van.

After remaining silent during everything, Windcharger spoke up. "We will both stay to fulfill our duty, William."

Banachek and Breckstein stared at the sedan, the former in an unphased manner and the latter with a raised eyebrow. "Windcharger and Gears," Lennox said by way of introduction. The 4x4 waved its radio antennae.

Banachek nodded. "Gentle..mechs, it's an honor."

"Sure," Gears chirped. It was unclear whether he was being friendly or disparaging.

"So..." Tom looked once more to Lennox. "Interested?"

Will glanced at Eugene, who gave a small but encouraging nod and smile. Will sighed. "As long as it isn't as exciting as the _last_ time I got involved with your guys..."

Banachek grinned. "I don't think you have to worry about that." Lennox shook his head in doubt but followed Tom toward the first van, then derailed toward his house.

Breckstein, left in command of the team, glanced over the two Autobots thoughtfully, then reached for Gears' driver side door. All the doors immediately locked. "Cease that particular thought process."

"Sorry, didn't mean any offense." Eugene laughed awkwardly and turned toward the second van.

Gears opened a private line to Windcharger. "I am not certain of this. Perhaps one of us should go with them."

Windcharger hesitated. "I...agree. But it is obvious that Will would prefer that we remain here. His wife and offspring are only civilians."

"Eh, I am going to contact Prime. I will track them for now, and if he thinks I should follow, I will be able to find them."

* * *

**  
**

Optimus Prime was not happy and it was no one's fault but his own. Even before he received the battle report from Windcharger he realized he had miscalculated. While he knew Ironhide and Chromia were an excellent fighting team, he should not have split up Ironhide and Ratchet. They had been working together for so long that it was practically hardwired into their processors to rely on each other to know what the other was thinking. Prime realized he should have sent _Ratchet,_ Ironhide, and Chromia to Lennox's -- where there had been a proven threat. He had thought sending them to an ally not assaulted yet would prevent attacks elsewhere. He had not expected the threat toward Lennox to double.

Yet at least he had been correct about sending fresh warriors. Ironhide had been damaged, after all, and Ratchet seemed to be online every minute of the day working on either Broadcast or Perceptor. The latter had yet to take an alternate mode but Ratchet had mentioned a plan that the head scientist had apparently agreed to. Optimus was still waiting for the medic to burn out.

He was watching him now across the conference table, talking animatedly to Arcee, who was filling in for Ironhide for the weapons division. No sign of burning out, but Prime still wondered where he was getting so much energy from. Optimus also missed having his advisory team together, but without Jazz it would be forever incomplete. He had not decided who to appoint in his place. Ratchet and Ironhide were fine with their current positions. Chromia's arrival was timely. If she agreed, she would be a good choice. He nodded to himself, then focused on the table itself. A few typed commands to the keyboard in front of him brought up a three dimensional light map of the United States.

"The team lead by Chromia is twenty-eight minutes from the dwelling of Robert Epps. Ninety-eight seconds ago I received a request from Gears to follow William Lennox to an unknown location that is under the command of Tom Banachek, leaving Windcharger and a group of unknown agents that arrived with Banachek. Lennox knew one of them, however, and this man was involved in the battle for Mission City."

"I want your opinions," Optimus continued. "Shall we entrust the safety of William to Banachek, or should Gears follow, with Windcharger and these agents left to guard Sarah and Annabelle Lennox?"

Broadcast, perched on Ratchet's left shoulder, raised a hand. "I'm wonderin' what it is that Lennox has got that the 'Cons want, an' if he didn't tell his family, they might not be in danger."

Ratchet leaned his head forward to see around the small mech and address Prime. "I had assumed they would use Lennox as a hostage to get to us, but since they did not attack his dwelling and capture his entire family as hostages, I agree with Broadcast. Lennox or one of the other soldiers may have information the Decepticons have been unable to gain through other means."

Arcee rapped her knuckle joints on the table in thought. _"I_ wonder how many Decepticons are here and how they evaded detection for so long."

Optimus waved a hand for silence. "An oversight on my part. We should have swept for traces of others, rather than assuming the group Starscream led was the only team to find Earth simply because we know where that particular group gained the hint to find this planet. There was no guarantee any others would drop their cover, even with Megatron in peril."

"Agendas on top of agendas," Ratchet grumbled.

Broadcast frowned. "So...are we sayin' someone _other_ than Starscream coulda been plannin' t' overthrow Megatron? But it don't fit if we're goin' off the evidence of those miscreant misfits that went after Lennox. Their boss is insanely loyal to Megatron." As an afterthought, he added, "If he's even still functional. I gave him a good beatdown last time we met. It could be someone else commandin' 'em."

"Could they be after the location of the trench, to retrieve Megatron?" Arcee suggested.

"Nah," Broadcast answered, "That's easy to pull from the Pentagon network."

Ratchet steepled his hands. "Ironhide would not have told William anything we deemed classified without having permission first." He glanced to Optimus, who shook his head.

"No information of that type has been relayed." Prime looked at the map, watching the dots designated as Chromia's team wind their way through urban streets.

"Puts us back where we started," Broadcast said. "Is it a military secret? Or maybe they _think_ he knows somethin'!" The small mech snapped his fingers, producing a few sparks. "I bet that's it. That's why there ain't been major harm to Lennox himself or his family. They might'a learned to ask before resortin' to destroyin' -- even if kidnappin' ain't exactly nice, either." He rubbed his chin. "Seein' as so far it's been the goon squad only, that supports someone else orderin' 'em around."

"Also why they are being sloppy about it," Arcee added.

"Good point." Broadcast emphasized by pointing at her.

Optimus looked around at them. "So we agree that Lennox himself is in the most danger. I will have Gears follow him." The others nodded, and he issued the command over a secure frequency.

Broadcast hopped down from Ratchet's shoulder and began pacing the length of the table, passing through the map as he went. The medic, meanwhile, was scowling as he stared down at the table top. "We need to alert Chromia of the possibility of the humans being wanted for secret information. Robert Epps would also be a likely target due to his involvement with communications."

"I will send the warning to Chromia. Broadcast, I want you to focus on the military lines, see if there is any sign of the government locking up information. Check for anomalies, and please do so from the comm center." Optimus glanced at Ratchet, who straightened in his seat and nodded at the silent reprimand. "Ratchet, have your teams finish the SkySpies. This would be the perfect situation to deploy them."

"We need only one more test flight, then all I need are specific coordinates. The modifications proposed by Rattlelatch and Perceptor integrated with the SkySpy functions without errors."

Prime nodded. "Arcee, I want you and Moonracer to watch the perimeter and be ready in case of..._anything._ I expect the Decepticons will show up here any time now."

"Yes, Prime."

"Thank you, everyone. Dismissed." Optimus nodded to them, then looked over the map, noting that the dot for Gears had made good time catching up to Lennox.

Broadcast made a leap for Ratchet's shoulder as the medic stood to leave. "Mind if I hitch a ride to the comm center?"

"Yes, I do mind, but I suppose I have little choice until I can reconfigure your speakers into skates. Or perhaps I will have Rattlelatch build a rocket pack for you."

"That would ROCK!"

Arcee shook her head as she followed them out.

* * *

**  
**

Chromia stopped just past the driveway of a brickface three story apartment, leaving room for Tracks to pull into the driveway itself while Ironhide stopped behind Chromia. Unbeknownst to them she was answering a call from Optimus. Ironhide scanned the area for anything that might serve as a hiding spot for a Decepticon, carefully checking each vehicle on the street. Tracks, meanwhile, was scanning the three humans at the other end of the driveway who stood below a basketball hoop, the tallest of them fidgeting with the ball as he regarded the blue sports car.

Nathaniel Epps, fourteen, looked up at his uncle. "You know that guy?"

"Nope, but I know the truck behind him. Stay here." Robert Epps tossed the basketball to the teen then jogged down the driveway, past the Corvette and peered right into the Topkick. Ironhide rolled down the window, his holographic driver in place. " 'Sup, Arcstorm. I take it you didn't stop by just to introduce the fancy ride."

"His name is Tracks. Don't bother talking to him." The driver gestured to the SUV in front of him. "May I introduce my lady, Chromia, a fellow weapons aficionado. We are here to check your status and protect you. There has been Decepticon activity centered on Lennox and we suspect they might target others who were involved at Mission City. We came here to make certain we would be ready before they struck."

Epps looked the three over and casually folded his hands behind his head. "Y'all need to learn to use a telephone. I don't got anywhere to hide you, and you can't stay here like this."

"Not even one of us?"

"Nope. Although if Tracks would give my nephew a ride home maybe he could stay with my brother." Epps grinned.

"That punk is not leaving my sight."

"So why haven't I heard of this attack before? Would have made sense to spread the word. None of those mechanical freaks will get away with harming one of us."

"We have alerted the Secretary of Defense and await his input."

"Great. So, how many are we up against _this_ time, and did you bring the Sabot rounds?"

* * *

On the dark side of the moon, in synchronized orbit with the gray planetoid, a lenticular-shaped spaceship waited with enough systems running to serve as a way station for the incoming bots who had received Optimus Prime's message. The main airlock needed a code to be opened but it was a simple guess for any Autobot. Which was fortunate for the bot who approached, already weighed down with a burden. He opened the airlock, pulling another mech in with him. When the outer door closed, the inner opened to a short corridor, turning right, into a larger passageway.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Bluestreak looked both ways down the passageway, his black chestplate heaving from the strain of the past hour's travel. The rest of his light gray armor reflected the dim lights that indicated the ship's power saver mode. He thought maybe there would be an alert to let anyone aboard know when an airlock was opened.

Unless there was no one on board.

He went back to the airlock and placed an arm around the other mech to help him stand, taking most of the weight onto himself to move into the corridor and toward the bridge. "Hang in there, Thundercracker. I will find assistance..."

**To Be Continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**Reunions - Part Five**

Keller reviewed each file Trailbreaker brought up on his dashboard computer. While being the sole Autobot with his own link to the government network and having his own password, Keller's password granted even higher and quicker access. The current set of files held the constantly updating positions of the personnel, former or enlisted, who were involved with the N.B.E. incident. All of them were voluntarily carrying a card that transmitted a signal. It was a device provided by the Autobots as a precaution in case exposure to the Allspark proved to have side effects. Now it was serving another purpose. It wouldn't be so easily hacked as a regular database. Keller had been assured that one of the latest Autobot arrivals could help make the government network also hacker-proof and Decepticon-proof.

He hoped so, because he and Trailbreaker noticed a few discrepancies in other data as they went along, which were sent off to the labs to be picked apart. This new group of Decepticons was being more subtle. It was both a relief and worrying. The network had been accessed without authorization, but the data that had been accessed did not point to mortal harm coming to anyone. He prayed it would remain that way. The hack job was disturbing enough. He sent orders for those involved who were on duty to be pulled from the field and sent to the nearest defensible location, radar and plain visual set to the highest priority.

Then he sent an alert to the ones who were off duty or civilian that they needed to check in. At the end of the list was Reginald Simmons, his card signal inactive. The man had agreed to carry the card but rarely had it on. It seemed about the only time it was on was when he went to the grocery store. Keller didn't understand why, and he still held the belief that Reggie needed psychiatric evaluation.

"I'll send someone to check Simmons' regular haunts. He's logged off again."

"No surprise," Trailbreaker replied with a short and dry chuckle. "Foolish of him. Being high up in Sector Seven would make him a prime target."

"What do _you_ think they're after? Frenzy hacked straight down to Sector Seven, and they were above Classified. What could Lennox know that we don't have buried under twenty-five layers of encryption?"

"Something of ours. I have no idea what."

Keller frowned, taking up the keyboard again to issue orders for a search to begin. The parameters would be ever-increasing, but the starting point was already confirmed. There would be yet another response team close to Lennox.

The click of the keyboard was the only sound in the Buick for several minutes, although soon after that a low, digitized murmur filtered through the radio. Keller did not pause as he asked, "Care to share what you're mumbling about?"

"I would like to, yes." Trailbreaker paused long enough to make Keller glance questioningly at the tiny camera at the top of the monitor's frame. "John, I...think it is time to reveal us to the public. I understand that it will be a daunting task, especially with what is happening right now, but I think _because_ of what is happening, the rest of the world needs to know. I understand the cover up was meant to stop the public from panicking and we handled informing the world governments as best we could, but there will be a time when sneaking in amongst regular meteors will be a moot point."

Keller sighed. "I agree. But I admit, I have no idea where to start..."

"Let me see if Optimus will send Rattlelatch over so we can do something about the system's security. I know Prime wanted each new mech to stay at Autobase for a week before being assigned anywhere, but as you humans say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Chromia did not even remain at Autobase an entire day before being sent out."

"But that's a cross-country trip. I don't suppose this Rattlelatch took the form of an aircraft?"

"No...he is a car. Mundane vehicles will hopefully be less alarming to people."

"Because Ironhide isn't the _slightest_ bit intimidating."

Trailbreaker laughed. "Well, all right, I'll give you that one. The _rest_ of us are trying to appear harmless."

"Given your interstellar travels, I can see why you think that. But human beings are rarely reasonable when it comes to the unknown."

"One more similarity between our races. Given enough time, we will all adjust."

"Your optimism is refreshing, and I mean that with all possible sincerity." Keller gave a tight smile.

"There is no sense in _not_ looking on the bright side. Your government has been willing to allow us to stay, and despite it being our nature to blend in, some of us hope to encourage friendship with more humans."

"I am praying it can come true, but I'll be honest and say I won't hold my breath. Now then, please connect me to Prime so we can start discussing Rattlelatch's transfer."

"Certainly, sir." The files disappeared from the screen and a red Autobot symbol took their place, a status bar below it tracking the signal time.

Five seconds later a silver face with red detailing came on screen. "Trailbreaker! 'Sup, man? Prime'll be on in a sec, he's dealin' with Huffer's whiny af-- oh! Hey there, Mister Secretary'a Defense. I'm Broadcast, the new comms officer. I coordinate all signals comin' in an' check the priority, an' all that stuff. How's it goin'?"

Keller repeated the words to himself to decipher them, having gotten used to the way the previous Autobots spoke. Quietly, meaning only for Trailbreaker to hear, he said, "I see what you mean by wanting to interact with humans."

He really wasn't surprised when Broadcast responded. "Oh yeah, culture shock, Ratch said that'd be a problem. Hmm. I apologize, John Keller. I have been absorbing a great amount of casual culture and have integrated it into my vocal and personality processes."

Trailbreaker chuckled. _"Now_ you sound strange."

Broadcast grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment. So, how _are_ things in your area? I haven't heard from Chromia yet so I assume things are okay there. Nothing new from Windcharger or Gears since that last report about the fight's outcome."

Keller took it upon himself to reply. "I've sent warnings to our bases and am now waiting on confirmation from those not on active duty. At the moment I would like to request, at Trailbreaker's suggestion, that Rattlelatch be sent over to inspect our equipment and begin fortifying the network."

Broadcast nodded. "We'll have to see if we can pry him away from Ratchet. Big Green is gettin' spoiled havin' more help in his department."

"I think we can reason with him." Trailbreaker chuckled again.

"Boss bot's on line number two. I'll patch you through." Broadcast's face disappeared from the screen, replaced by that of Optimus Prime.

"Broadcast has informed me of your progress and request. I must agree with him on the point about Ratchet, but I have relayed the order and I am sure he will comply. I am concerned about the time frame involved while we have Decepticons loose, but it may be worth it to set that plan in motion right away."

Keller nodded. "Is there anything _I_ can do to alleviate this situation?"

"Until we confirm their motivation, I think you have already made the best decision in protecting possible targets. This is not like the previous encounter with them. We knew they wanted the Allspark and knew we had to beat them to it. William Lennox does not know anything in particular about us that we have not told you, which would be in the network they have already infiltrated. I would authenticate this with William again, myself, but he is currently out of direct contact with Gears due to accompanying Tom Banachek."

It took only a split second for the Autobot's words to sink in. "What if it isn't really Lennox they're after, but Banachek? All that ex-Sector Seven data _and_ exhibits... They might have something the Decepticons are interested in. Six months later and S-Seven is still pulling things out of a hat for the rest of the government to document. Banachek's new department was approved just to get the catalog straightened out. Even _he_ said the records were a mess from all the secrecy and redundant encryption. He already drafted a couple of men who fought during the N.B.E. incident. Maybe these new Decepticons think Lennox knows a location of something still hidden, by default of association, if they hadn't been able to go after Banachek himself."

"Possible. We must contact Banachek. I will have Windchargers and Gears adjust their focus to extended search."

"I have another request," Keller said quietly. "Again, credit to Trailbreaker for voicing what I was uncertain of before, but his counsel led me to see it is necessary. If one of your group has the PR skills, it is time to start negotiating how to introduce the Cybertronians to the general public. You are welcome to remain hidden as you see fit, but the more times the Decepticons surface, the better it is that the public knows to be aware."

Optimus bowed his head. He had hoped to have at least an Earth year's worth of time to consider the question. "I have had a subroutine running that very scenario for three months, and I believe it is far too soon to rush to judgment on it. I feel that more time is necessary for both the human race and my own. I know a few Autobots here, now, are not ready. I understand, however, about alerting the public to be wary."

Trailbreaker was running the personnel windows in the background, bringing up both Banachek's and Lennox's tracking cards. He added Simmons for good measure. The same files appeared at Prime's end. "Given the discussion, Reginald Simmons could be a target, as well. The deactivated signal concerns me."

Keller shook his head. "It's usually deactivated."

" 'Usually'?" Prime asked, "For how long has it been that way?"

"Since about two weeks after it was given to him. One time I asked him why and he claimed he was better off without it. It has been on when he goes grocery shopping." Keller gave a shrug and an amused smile.

The humor was lost on Optimus, for he peered closer at the file, finding the list of dates and times Simmons' signal had been recorded. "Have you reconned the grocery store?"

"Not regularly, but someone is on the way now to look for him."

Prime nodded, still analyzing the listings. "Trailbreaker?"

"Yes, Prime?"

"Verify pattern alpha-deca-syne."

Trailbreaker brought Simmons' file to the fore front and highlighted select data as he scrolled through it. "Verified, Prime. What do you conclude the objective to be?"

Keller cleared his throat. "Pardon the interruption, but may I ask what that pattern means to begin with?"

"It is something he would have gotten off of the Cube," Trailbreaker replied. "But I do not see how it relates to nutrition supplies."

Optimus muttered, "He is doing it wrong." Then he made a sound similar to the one Keller made to clear his throat. "I would appreciate if Banachek and Simmons were located and brought to where we could pick them up. I must discuss these matters with them."

"You and me both," Keller said, eying Simmons' photo.

* * *

Will couldn't believe his eyes as he entered the underground aircraft hangar. It and the small chambers surrounding it were hidden under nothing more intricate than an overgrown field surrounded by a wire fence, littered with a few purposely corroded vents and one derelect shack adrift in the left side of the grass. 

The main hangar was huge and had several vintage aircraft in it. The one he was staring at now was a genuine Douglas A-20 Havoc in pristine condition with an army green and white paint scheme. Banachek smiled and gestured around. "These are the things we need men like you to find and protect."

Lennox was still looking the plane over as he replied, "Does this count as an anomaly because it doesn't have a scratch on it and normally we'd be hard pressed to find one like this outside of a museum?"

"No," Tom answered, clasping his hands behind his back. "Look _closer."_

Lennox scaled the ladder to inspect the wings then looked over the nose art. There was no identifying phrase or image, but along with three dozen bombs and a swastika were five faded Decepticon symbols. Will gaped and pointed, staring at Banachek in disbelief. "Does this mean we had 'Cons here before Starscream's company sneaked in, and our boys already knew about them, or--"

The plane began to shift. Lennox had his answer. He jumped down and watched the old plane rearrange itself into a robot with a head shaped similar to a WWII-era pilot's helmet, goggles and all. Amber optics shown from a face the color of fire-scarred metal, an equally damaged battlemask covering the bottom half. "To answer your question, other than Megatron there were no Decepticons on Earth during the war against the Axis. Those others are my kills from when I escaped the Mektrol System. After that I wandered into this solar system and hid here on Earth. My name's Powerglide. I am a Neutral ...although I don't mind taking down a Decepticon or two. Sector Seven found me through rumors of a haunted plane but that was all they ever knew about me. I was just a spooky story, like most of these wrecks." He gestured at the other aircraft around them. "Until the Allspark incident when I inadvertently revealed myself to the agents guarding this facility. They respected my wish to remain a ghost story."

"Pleased to meet you," Lennox said, a bit numb, his head tilted back to meet the bot's gaze. Sluggishly the suggestion of _air support_ came to his mind but the word _Neutral_ stopped him from saying it out loud. He picked up on the bittersweet tone of the mech's voice on the last part of his story.

Powerglide withdrew the battlemask into the sides of his helmet and smiled with pock-marked mouth plates. "I can guess your thoughts from your eyes. I respect the Autobots but I do not wish to join them at this time."

Lennox nodded. "Not my place to suggest that a veteran return to the field."

Powerglide responded with a crisp airman's salute. Lennox gave one of his own, then turned to Banachek and blew out a breath. "Just tell me now if you have any more of these guys hanging out anywhere."

Tom gave a tight smile. "He's it."

Powerglide smirked down at the former agent. "And they already grilled me about the Allspark, so don't try to ask."

"I wasn't going to," Lennox assured him. Of course, he couldn't help wondering if Powerglide had known the Allspark was on Earth, and if he had sensed its presence at any time. Perhaps he would be willing to indulge just one question later. Will looked to Banachek again. "So, what else is on the tour?"

"A few mutated dinosaur skeletons, the remains of half of a metallic manta ray, some tablets from Atlantis, an amulet from the Incan Empire, three pennies found buried near Washington's headquarters."

"Don't forget to ask about the tank on the lower level," Powerglide put in helpfully. "And bring some rotten eggs."

Will shot a puzzled look at Tom, who waved a dismissive hand. Lennox considered the situation. "Powerglide here is the coup de grace to convince me to join."

"Oh, no," protested the aircraft. "I'm just part of the scenery." He transformed and taxied backward into his original spot.

Lennox fought the urge to smile. He peered around the hangar again, his gaze falling on an old Bell telephone displayed in the corner. Slowly, he turned to Banachek again. "Do you have defense gear strong enough to protect guys like him?"

"A little, with more in development. Why that, in particular?"

Lennox looked over at Powerglide. "Because I want to make sure the next team I join has the same defense capabilities as the one I leave."

* * *

Rattlelatch was out the door and headed for the highways not long after Prime gave him his new assignment. He had begun to feel like a stalled vehicle cooped up in the base all the time. He was also glad that Prime hadn't assigned anyone to go with him. The SkySpy disguised as a bird flying overhead was the only company he would have. It wasn't just cabin fever with this whole country ahead of him to explore. It was also claustrophobia, and trying to adjust to another command structure. He was still waiting for Broadcast to take a leadership role as he had done with their team. When Broadcast was down from his injuries, Tracks had taken charge. Perceptor had put aside his scientific distancing and picked up a canon to fill in the gap left by another downed warrior. Rattlelatch had become scout, infiltrator, and general special ops, able to use his skills in whichever way he saw fit.

Now he was Ratchet's lackey. While he respected the medic, he felt he had lost a measure of freedom. He knew the engineering team's efforts were important, especially right now, but he missed the independence of his team.

He chastised himself; that _team_ had been and always would be a part of the Autobot whole. Their goal had been reached, albeit not in the expected way, and it was time to settle back into their previously structured lives.

Except, for some reason, things didn't feel anything like they did before. ...The organic planet aside.

He continued to analyze the conclusion as he turned onto I-15. Three hours and a few hundred miles north and eastward found him still weighing factors. It was a good way to pass the time and the scenery on I-40 wasn't very interesting. After another hour or so, however, he noticed something was _extremely_ interesting. Two more bird shadows had joined the SkySpy's, veering left and right as it moved in a programmed pattern so regular motorists wouldn't wonder why the green car was being precisely trailed by a bird. He entertained the thought that some buzzards had mistaken the SkySpy for real food. He accessed his Internet link to look up the particulars on the hunters.

No, something else was hunting. Vultures were scavengers and these shadows were too big to be hawks. Rattlelatch sped up, dismayed that the next rest stop wasn't for another fifty miles. He directed his scanners upward. They weren't hunting birds, at least not of the organic type. He couldn't identify who exactly they were, but he had a good idea. He opened a link to Autobase but the line was full of static. He tested his control link with the SkySpy. That was still intact, so he directed it to swoop around and hopefully get a view of the hunters.

Condors, almost identical, and the SkySpy confirmed their makeup as metal and electronics. He tried again to contact Autobase, resorting to a time-delayed message. _"Rattlelatch reporting. Passing Mojave Desert at the following coordinates at the time of this message. Transmissions are jammed, do not know if you will receive SkySpy images. Currently tailed by Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. Will attempt to lead them away from human-populated area and engage. Not going to wait for backup."_

He veered off the road suddenly, his struts protesting the change from solid pavement. The SkySpy followed and the two Decepticons were on its fake tail feathers. Rattlelatch was partway to a rock outcropping when he transformed. His feet fared little better than his tires. He opened a compartment in his upper left arm and directed the SkySpy to land inside. From the lower part of his arm formed a small laser pistol. He had to protect the SkySpy, for it held some of their newly developed technology in it. He had begun to suspect it was what the Decepticons were after. Unfortunately, long range combat was not one of his strengths, and the two condors could fly and shoot with the gun barrels mounted atop their heads at the same time without problems.

Shoot they did, and he retreated toward the outcropping while taking potshots -- which were all easily dodged. He wished Tracks was there. He had no problem being a decoy when there was an experienced fighter around to take down the pursuers. Rattlelatch realized he should have come up with a real plan before leaving the highway.

He whirled around, leaning his pistol arm on his right hand and firing. He grazed one of Buzzsaw's wings, earning a screech from the Decepticon. Rattlelatch fired again, stepping backward while trying to keep the weapon leveled. He sent several shots toward Laserbeak, who swooped around all of them then bore down on the green mech. Rattlelatch resisted the urge to cower and cover his head. Instead he rearranged his right arm into the micro laser and forced it to charge up to torching strength. At the last moment he ducked while swinging his right arm up in an arc. The burst of light from the laser temporarily blinded Laserbeak, causing him to fly lower than intended. Rattlelatch moved his arm to try to shear off a wing but the metal was too thick, the micro laser inadequate for the task -- but it did leave a nasty burn and softened that section of panels.

Laserbeak was forced to land but he didn't waste a second before shooting at the Autobot again. Rattlelatch stumbled, yet turned the momentum toward transforming to car mode. He floored it and sped toward Laserbeak. The Decepticon couldn't move in time. He met grill and was sent involuntarily flying toward the out cropping's face.

Buzzsaw was on the Autobot in less than a second. Rattlelatch barely avoided having a tire shot out from under him. He headed farther into the desert, bouncing over rocks and scrub. He swerved left as Buzzsaw fired to the right. He attempted to transform as he drove, but his unfolding leg panels caught on a rock and sent him tumbling. His skidded up onto three limbs, pistol forming from the fourth, and he whipped it up to target Buzzsaw before the Decepticon got the next shot.

Steam hissed from several of his vents as Rattlelatch looked around. Buzzsaw was no where in sight. He scanned around for both Decepticons, wishing he hadn't been so eager to get away from Autobase.

* * *

Broadcast's hands flew over the comm center's main computer keyboard as he tried to connect with the SkySpy that had been tracking Rattlelatch's progress. The signal had glitched out ten minutes ago, and Ratchet was now trying to find out if there was faulty wiring, but the remote diagnostic program wasn't responding, either. 

Broadcast gave up on the keyboard and reached for the back of his head, removing one end of a cable and plugging it into one of the I/O ports on the console. He shuffled through frequencies for a moment then stopped, adjusting the dial on the left side of his head. His optics flared and he opened three lines simultaneously.

"Prime! Rattlelatch has been attacked!"

"Rattlelatch, this is Broadcast, do you read?"

"TRACKS! 'Latch is in trouble! Stand by to take off and head southeast at top speed!"

The last was the only one to come out panicked. One of his men was miles to the north, another being attacked near the east border of the state, and the third rendered civilian due to something _else_ Broadcast hadn't been privy to vote on. He wouldn't have sent Rattlelatch out alone, but now that wasn't his decision to make since he had fallen right in to answering to Prime.

He resisted opening a fourth line to check Perceptor's status.

* * *

A gray and silver mech sat calmly in front of a monitoring array in a room below an abandoned construction site. He noted the latest video from five different cameras, nodding to himself. "The Autobots are sufficiently separated. Phase Two initiated from Mars. Your next orders?" 

The mech looming behind him leaned a heavy hand onto the top of his chair's backing. Soundwave ignored the attempt to intimidate him, not moving at all as the other mech said, "Initiate Phase Three. My unit is already in position and awaiting my arrival. You are capable of activating the next phase from here."

"Acknowledged." Soundwave brought up a sixth video link then waited for the door to hiss closed before he created a secure audio link to the source of that video. "Rumble: Activate. Prepare for Operation Earthquake."

**To Be Continued**


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Here's something new and different: A chapter that remains in one location the entire time! Also, due to name usage in the movie, as well as one toy, I have substituted names for certain characters here.  
_

* * *

**Reunions - Part Six**

Bluestreak found a supply room with an energy feed that was still active. Despite a feeble protest, he left Thundercracker hooked up to it and went to find the bridge of the ship. If the communication link to Earth still worked he could try to get a message to Prime that he was there, and in trouble. Neither he nor the wounded Thundercracker would be able to make planetfall on their own.

It was twenty minutes later when he realized he was going in circles. He started trying doors, hoping to find more live energy as well as leaving open doors as trail markers. Ironically, there was a station just outside the door of the bridge. He sank down to the floor with the dual-wire connection trailing out of the side of his chest. He'd had plenty of nightmares in his time, but this was one of the situations that unnerved him the most: knowing hope was just a step away, but being too trapped to take that step. Right now, it was his damaged spark that kept him from being physically able to move the necessary step. His ventilation systems were still glitching, causing him to gasp occasionally as layers of cables and housing shifted unevenly.

He wanted to just shut down for a couple of hours and tackle the problem with a rested processor and settled functions, but he didn't know if there was time. The sooner he contacted Prime, the sooner the earth bots could devise a way to get the two of them planetside.

He checked his chronometer. Thundercracker had been recharging for thirty minutes. If it worked he would be able to unhook himself from the feed. Bluestreak felt his own systems begin to even out, his intakes falling into a calmer rhythm. Yet with the internal warnings flickering around his processor now disappearing one by one, the data they had drowned out came rushing back to him. He buried his face in his hands until he could file it all away. But the input from his last battle kept finding new details to stream and would trigger the already filed data all over again. It was like a virus running rampant through his CPU.

An hour after he had left Thundercracker he felt someone tapping at his arm. He lifted his head, unable to recall how he had ended up prone on the floor. The feed cable had automatically disconnected itself and had withdrawn back into the wall. Thundercracker was peering down at him with dimmed red optics. Bluestreak pushed himself up on one elbow and noticed the pained look on the blue and gray mech's face. "Did you get a one hundred percent charge?"

"No," Thundercracker rumbled. "You were gone so long that I disconnected to find you. You were in a pseudo-offline state, here. Are you functional?"

"I am not certain." Bluestreak moved up to his knees and leaned on the wall in order to stand. He looked down at the aerial mech who would normally be towering over him, but Thundercracker was hunched from his wounds and lacked a large amount of armor that previously had lent to his intimidating size. The twist to the plates of his face warned that he was by no means defeated, just temporarily crippled.

"Let us proceed with contacting your allies. I do not like this ship." Thundercracker hobbled toward the bridge door.

"You might be receiving that sensation because _it_ does not like _you._ It might still be reading you as a Decepticon. I can check the parameters once we have gained access to the mainframe."

Thundercracker turned to look back at him. "What the ship thinks of me is of no concern. I do not like ships. I can fly fine on my own."

Bluestreak caught up to him and they approached the door side by side. "At least it provided shelter when we were in need of it. It is better than trying to make refuge on that class zero-zero-one-zero planetoid outside." He triggered the door and walked in, dismayed to see the bridge empty.

"No atmosphere, no sky." Thundercracker sneered at the nearest view port affording a view of the moon.

Bluestreak scanned the floor and seating areas in hopes of finding evidence that someone had been there recently. There were heat traces by the communications console but they had almost faded away. Someone _had_ been there. He sighed, finally giving up on finding that someone was _currently_ there. He sat down at the console and triggered its power up mode.

Thundercracker lurched around to each station, making his own inspections. He grasped the back of one chair and crushed it in one claw-like, six-fingered hand. "Inferior design."

Bluestreak startled at the sound, accidentally hitting a button that set off an error alarm. Thundercracker looked over at him disapprovingly, but the Autobot was too busy overriding the alert to notice. Once it stopped he brought up the outgoing messages log. The frequency to contact Autobase One had been saved to come up automatically with a single confirmation. Relieved to have saved even just a few steps, Bluestreak tapped the on screen confirmation button and waited for it to connect.

The power on the bridge dipped, disrupting the connection. Bluestreak slammed a fist down. Thundercracker glanced around as the lights dimmed then flickered out. "I should have predicted this." He sighed and went around looking out of the view ports. "Nothing from outside of this section. How long will it take to search the ship without the security cameras?"

"Hours that we do not have." Bluestreak stared at the emergency light over the bridge door, silently willing it to go out so the regular power saver lights would go back on.

"Standing here will do no good. Let us at least check the airlock we came in through. Perhaps you did not reseal it correctly."

Bluestreak realized that he did not remember resetting the code. "If I did not, then it was because I was more concerned with getting both of us inside."

Thundercracker eyed him, his tone empty as he said, "You could have left me adrift."

The Autobot did not respond as he walked to the door. "Stay here. I will check the airlock."

"No." The wounded mech lurched to follow him. _"Someone_ should watch your back."

Bluestreak turned toward him and put a hand on Thundercracker's pitted chest plating, pushing him back a step. _"Stay here._ The communication signal could come back up and it would be better if someone was here to relay our distress call."

Thundercracker ejected air from his upper vents in an irritated manner, as if to indicate he was keeping his temper in check. "Then perhaps you should stay and _I_ could check the airlock." He gestured to the comms console. "If they see or hear _me,_ they will panic."

"Not if the code I sent goes through. They will see that an Autobot and a Neutral are hailing them." Bluestreak forced him back another step. "Aside from that, I have the knowledge to fix errors if something went wrong with the airlock."

Thundercracker glared at him a moment longer, pushing Bluestreak's hand away from him before turning toward the console. "Very well. But when I see you float past a view port if you are drawn outside, you will have to find your own way back in."

Bluestreak smirked. "That has a low probability of occurring."

"I have witnessed it."

Bluestreak kept to himself the question of if anyone had let the unfortunate mech back in. He gave a stern nod, then pushed the door open manually. He switched his optics to night vision mode as he entered the hallway. Thundercracker snorted and moved to stand over the comms console, watching it do absolutely nothing.

As he walked down the corridors, Bluestreak rubbed at the plating above his optics, letting out a heavy exhalation through his olfactory sensor. If the power had only held out a few nanoseconds more... He wasn't sure where to set the boundaries of the string of events that had put him in his current situation, but it was surely the most difficult timespan of his life.

Auditory receptors tuned to high, he scanned the still-open doorways, picking up occasional heat traces on the frames, likely where Thundercracker had leaned as he looked for the Autobot. Bluestreak checked each "marked" room and found nothing out of place. The same held for every room on the way to the airlock. With the power out, all he could do was check the manual mechanics. They were all in the correct place given that the electrical code had been input properly beforehand. He glanced at the light above the inner door, again trying to will the power saver light back on. It remained dull orange. He turned away from the airlock and began scanning the hallway to his left. Perhaps if he could find the generator room he might be able to get the power back on. He set off in that direction, deciding to comm Thundercracker if it took more than twenty minutes.

However, five minutes later the lights flicked on to power saver mode. A minute and a half later, they went down again -- and so did half of Bluestreak's systems. Many of the errors cleared up almost immediately but a few remained -- most inconveniently, his night vision option stayed down. He cursed quietly and switched to the regular light spectrum. Small panels atop his head shifted to extend a set of lights. When he turned them on he jerked backward. At first he thought he was seeing a hallway that had been damaged, which would explain the power fluctuations, but as he raised his head to see how badly damaged the ceiling was, his gaze traveled upward...and upward...and upward until he was looking at a smoke-filled sky. The hallway walls were the sides of buildings, the doorways open alleys. He ran a diagnostic but it came back insisting that what he was seeing was real. He could smell the smoke and burning oil, hear the aerospace fighters in the distance as they cut through the air, hear the shouting of the residents as the city came down around them.

He tried to reject the input. It was _not_ possible. He had come to the Ark after receiving a general message and coordinates from Optimus Prime. Even though it had been a round about route and fraught with troubles, he _knew_ he had reached the Ark. There was no possible way he had returned to Cybertron...to watch the fires and destruction all over again...

He glanced toward the nearest alleyway and edged toward it. The street at the other end seemed to be fine so he headed for it. When he looked out, however, the building straight ahead was the only one intact. To either side of him was fiery destruction. He heard the sounds of the aerial fighters again. Metal clattered around him, then he took aim at the sky -- and he startled, looking over his right arm and the connecting tubes from his back. He had not voluntarily formed up his weapon system. But when the first flier came in view he took aim again. The sound of an electricity rifle going off came so much louder than all the other noises.

Somewhere in the bottom of Bluestreak's processor he knew it was an illusion. The problem was discerning the external source before the images overrode his logic circuits. He kept close to the wall as he moved to the right, peering around for clues. He figured his internal scanners would do little good. He was proven correct when a missile slammed into the ground beside him. He darted a glance along the missile's path, but no one stood where the firing point would have been. Another missile thudded into the ground to his left, spraying him with shrapnel.

Bluestreak stepped toward the street as machine gun fire came close to his left side. He began to turn in a circle, trying to see who was shooting the projectiles. Large panels started to clatter to the street, some landing with wet _clangs_ from being partially melted. He had to dodge to avoid being hit, and put his arms over his head as he broke into a run. The city...the city was being razed. There was no way anyone could survive. Yet, _he_ had...

He tried to shake himself again. _I am on the Ark, I am on the Ark, I am on the Ark--_ "I AM ON THE ARK!" His own shout rang in his audio receptors. A large streak of darkness went past him, then he found himself looking down a dimly lit corridor that was undamaged -- except for the smoking holes in the ceiling delivered by his own weaponry.

"At least the power saver lights are back on," he muttered. He reformed his right arm and shook out his hand as he headed back toward the bridge. He was glad Thundercracker had stayed behind. He didn't need witnesses to that...relapse. He felt uneasy, however, wondering if someone was aboard who had felt like messing with his perception subroutines. He didn't let his guard down, and checked the airlock again on his way. It was in correct order, so he hurried toward the bridge without giving it another thought.

He picked up heat traces in the corridor around the corner from the bridge hallway. They were extremely recent. Thundercracker might have come out to look for him but changed his mind. Bluestreak was wrong, though. He came around the bend in time to hear someone yell, _"Decepticon!! Fire! Fire!"_

The sound of laser and railgun shots rang out. Bluestreak ran to the open doorway and froze as the barrage made Thundercracker stagger backward, hit a console, and jerk around with each shot that landed.

The three mechs firing on him proved to be excellent marksman.

Knowing he had to stop things immediately, he ran toward Thundercracker and without hesitation moved in front of him, spreading his arms. He grunted but managed to hold his ground as the last round of shots slammed into him, a few dinging the Autobot symbol on his shoulder.

"Hold fire!" The gray and white mech in the middle called even though the other two were way ahead of him, already lowering their weapons. The shorter mech to his right, red and white with a copper badge on the left side of his chest, looked a little twitchy about it, however.

The third mech, red and dark gray with black armoring on his head, was a good four heads taller than everyone else. He put a hand on the red and white mech's shoulder as the two parties watched each other. "Easy, Red."

Bluestreak looked them each over and tried to match names to the superstructures. One came to him. "Prowl?"

The mech in the middle stepped forward. "Bluestreak? What is the meaning of this? Step away from that criminal!"

"No." Bluestreak moved forward, lowering his arms and clenching his fists.

Prowl charged his weapon in warning. "Bluestreak, step away. That is an _order."_

"No, Prowl." A bitter smile came to Bluestreak's face. "I am not under your command, I am still abiding the structure of my team."

Without letting his guard down Prowl flicked his optics left and right. "Then where are they? Who is your commanding officer?"

"Gone. We were all caught and executed. I escaped due to Thundercracker freeing me."

"Is that so," Prowl said, cutting off Bluestreak's next words and pointing his gun muzzle around Bluestreak toward Thundercracker. "A student of Altihex, is he?"

Bluestreak's face plates flattened. "No, again." He pushed the gun aside. "His allies were going to terminate him for dissension. We agreed to a truce since the only way out was to help each other."

"And then you led him straight here. That was a tactical error, Bluestreak. You have jeopardized the safety of the Ark."

"I was not aware Optimus had rescinded the offer of granting refuge to those in need," Bluestreak said coolly.

The red and white mech spoke up. "I think we should vote on it."

A grating cackle filled the air. "Oh, and how do we do so in a fair manner?" Thundercracker pushed himself up from the console, one hand clamped tightly over his sparking left shoulder. "It is so good to know you Autobots prefer to talk before shooting." Although rendered shorter than Prowl from the latest pain, he craned his neck to glare at the team leader. "You have been through much, I assume, to cause you to give up converting any of us. Your friend here is scared, but at least he has not compromised his belief in compassion."

Prowl scowled at the implied insult. "The helpless deserve compassion. Decepticons have invoked their own destruction."

Thundercracker shuffled backward, spreading both arms as far outward as they could go before creaking and sparking. "If you have not noticed, I am extremely helpless at this time."

"Why would your allies turn against you?" Prowl demanded.

The wounded mech laughed again. "The irony of the question is amusing." He glanced at Bluestreak then looked at Prowl again. "I disagreed with them. News of Megatron's defeat reached us, and they were willing to follow Starscream."

"If Starscream is the second in command, why did you dissent?"

Thundercracker went silent, drawing his arms in against his sides. A low rumbling noise came from within him, echoing along all the walls. The other two mechs with Prowl shifted warily.

Prowl motioned with his gun. "Do not _dare..."_

The rumbling subsided and Thundercracker growled, "Starscream is a pretender to the throne! He will fail. _I_ will have nothing to do with the Decepticons without Megatron." He lowered himself to one knee before Prowl. "...You have my word. I seek sanctuary."

Bluestreak slouched in relief. Prowl was frowning, but he finally lowered his weapon. "Red Alert, Inferno, watch him." Prowl gestured to the other two mechs, who moved forward to Thundercracker's side. Inferno carefully gave the wounded mech a supporting arm while Red Alert began looking over his wounds, although he was only cataloging them, not offering repairs yet. Prowl opened an external comm line to someone else. "Firestar, report to the bridge."

A female voice replied, "Yes, sir."

"Hmph," Thundercracker grunted. "Out-numbered two to one. Yes, a fair vote that would have been." He shook off both Red Alert and Inferno but remained between them.

Bluestreak strode over to the communications console to see if his message had made it through. Prowl followed. Bluestreak glanced up at him. "I am looking forward to seeing Earth. Judging by the message Optimus Prime sent there will be much to see and learn there. I wonder what the native inhabitants are like, aside from what Prime mentioned. If this signal had gone through before and we had sorted out _how_ we would make planetfall, I would have asked more about the planet and its features. From the general details in the database here, it looks fascinating." He pointed to a side screen that was displaying a series of things labeled as 'trees'.

Prowl didn't even glance at it. Leaning close and lowering his voice, he said, "This transgression _will_ be reported."

"As you wish. However, I did what I felt was right." Bluestreak busied himself scrolling through images of Earth's flora.

"Do you think _he_ knows the difference? How do you think he will repay you?"

"We are one for one. If we offer him repairs, he will have to honor any deal, seeing as he has neither allies nor supplies." Bluestreak turned away from the console. "I have modified the message to include six of us, with four able-bodied." He added flatly, "At least you can be assured that i _your_ /i account of events will reach Prime first."

Firestar walked in before any other angry words were exchanged. Her gaze fell on Thundercracker. "One came aboard, then?" she asked, glancing at Prowl.

"Bluestreak brought him on board," the team leader replied.

"I assume my message did not get through. After you hailed me, I was on my way here when I looked out of a view port toward the atmosphere-less planetoid. I saw several mechanoids launch toward the ship. I did not recognize all of them. However, Astrotrain is among them." She tapped her wrist. "Now I realize that I did not receive a confirmation..."

Prowl clenched his fists. _"How_ did we not see _him_ on our way here?"

"I suspect he was hidden on the far side of the ship and circled around after we boarded. If not that, then perhaps he now has cloaking technology." She hoisted a slim, double-barreled laser onto her right shoulder. "We should go meet them." She then looked at Thundercracker. "Is he still useful for questioning or did I arrive in time to see him be terminated?"

Bluestreak stepped forward and toward Thundercracker. "He is i _not_ /i to be terminated. You four go out, I will remain here to await a response from Autobase. I need more time to regenerate and will not be able to fight at one hundred percent."

Prowl shook his head. "I would prefer that someone _else_ remain as a guard."

"Prowl," Red Alert interrupted, pointing toward a view port on the team leader's left, "I must decline deciding on the most satisfactory arrangements. We must act _immediately!"_

The sight beyond the viewport was of a massive dark purple Cybertronian in the form of a Class-D shuttle -- about half the size of the Ark in its current collapsed mode -- and with room for two dozen Decepticons to be transported within. "Astrotrain," Prowl said grimly. He looked around at his team. "Red Alert, Inferno, quadra pattern. Firestar, you and I will execute a tetra move. Bluestreak, see if the onboard guns are still functional. If they are, target _him."_ He pointed to the view port. "Leave the small ones to us."

Bluestreak saluted. "Yes. ...sir," he acknowledged in a neutral tone.

Prowl sized up Thundercracker. "Help him but not _not_ attempt to use the ship's weaponry on your own." Thundercracker nodded, yet not about to enact military protocols. Red Alert led the others out of the bridge, Prowl hanging back to give Bluestreak and Thundercracker a warning glare.

After he left, Thundercracker hobbled over to the communications console. "An exemplary group you Autobots are. I am not sure who I would rather have as enemies."

"It was not always this way. Something has changed." Bluestreak turned toward another console, typing responses to prompts to bring up the status of the weapons.

"Oh?"

"He usually would not use that vocal processing tone when speaking to me." He gave a grim frown. "And I would not speak to him in such a manner, either."

* * *

Red Alert and Inferno immediately flew to the right after exiting the airlock. Firestar dove a little below where her position dictated and made a concerned sound when she saw Astrotrain slowly pass the front of the Ark. Prowl, however, was looking around for the Decepticons Astrotrain could have brought with him.

He had his answer when two aerospace fighters shot past him and fired on Red and Inferno. The two Autobots split up to avoid the fire, then increased their back-mounted boosters and raced after them. Red commed over, "I confirm Ramjet and Thrust."

A rain of laser bolts forced Prowl and Firestar to take cover near the Ark's edge. "Confirmed Blastoff and Vortex," Prowl relayed. "Be on watch for Onslaught, Tankor, and Gutcruncher. If you see them, _by any means necessary_ do _not_ let them get near each other!" He looked at Firestar. "We shall detain the ones here. Ignore Astrotrain for now."

Inside, Thundercracker was watching and comparing the incoming data on another console he had activated. Bluestreak was still working on the ship's guns, so the former Decepticon made himself useful by tracking the Autobots' positions so no one would get caught in friendly fire. He was also keeping an optic on Astrotrain's energy signature. If a change indicated the Decepticon shuttle was going to transform, they would need to start getting _all_ of the Ark's weapons online. As soon as the thought went through his processor, Bluestreak announced his success on activating the forward guns.

"Routing additional power to scanners," Thundercracker called in reply. "If we are to target Astrotrain, we also need to track energy input and output."

Bluestreak met his gaze and nodded. "Do it. Prowl is off deck. I retake my command."

Thundercracker grated out a chuckle. "A command of one. I expect that is how it will all end when we have all gone offline."

Prowl's voice came in over the PA, making the two wonder if he could hear out if they could hear in. "Gun support, _now!_ We have confirmed Onslaught and Tankor! I conclude we will face Bruticus before this is over. Keep half the scanners on Astrotrain, the rest on the Combaticons. Concentrate fire on Onslaught!"

"Rodger," Bluestreak replied directly to Prowl's frequency. Suddenly the communications console's screen brightened and a text message began scrolling along it. Being closest, Thundercracker moved to read it. "Response from Autobase!" he cried, excited despite himself. "They say there is a shuttle on board that our wounded can use!" Although his face remained contorted, his optics were bright when he glanced at Bluestreak.

The Autobot gave a tight smile. _He has discovered hope. I shall wish for it to remain with him._ "I will send a confirmation and update them on our situation. Then we will take care of everything out here and soon we will see our new home."

"Atmosphere and sky again," Thundercracker commented, not sounding overjoyed but not displeased, either. He moved aside to let Bluestreak work on the reply and took up station by the weapons console. Prowl had apparently rejected the fact that he knew each Combaticon's personal energy signature and could easily track Onslaught.

**To Be Continued**


	7. Chapter 7

**Reunions - Part Seven**

Broadcast sat back and listened to Tracks' vehement response to Prime's calmer attempts to reason with him. Optimus had wanted to send the other SkySpy out to confirm Rattlelatch's status. Tracks was revving his engine, already on his way to find a clear stretch of road so he could take off. _Prime's thinkin' small again,_ Broadcast realized with a sigh.

A new signal appeared on the board and he accessed it with the hope it wasn't more trouble. Then he let out a "WOOT!" and interrupted everything. "I just got word from the Ark! We got more 'Bots! Two're wounded, can't make palnetfall on their own, but there's four others in okay condition. Prime, wanna have 'em come in near 'Latch's last coordinates? That'll solve ev'rythin'."

Before Optimus could reply, Ratchet cut in on the group line. "Prime, the second SkySpy is ready. I programmed it to go straight to Rattlelatch's last location and search for his signature from there. Broadcast, tell those mechs on the Ark to use the shuttle in bay number three. They should be able to get it out without decompressing that section of the ship."

"Gotcha, Ratch." The communications officer waited for Prime's response.

Meanwhile, Tracks grumbled, "I could still arrive faster."

Broadcast was surprised to hear Optimus ask, "Ratchet, what do you think?"

"Me?" the medic replied, taken aback. "Ask Arcee. She is a better tactician than I will ever be."

Broadcast automatically added Arcee's frequency to the line, debriefing her on the side as he did so. "Bring them down near Rattlelatch," she responded. "And tell them to keep that shuttle _intact._ Not only will they need a place to take cover until they can scan an Earth mode, but we can use it to get _back_ to the Ark."

"Agreed," Ratchet said.

Optimus did not reply right away. Broadcast reopened his private line to him. "Boss bot, what's eatin' you? I'm sorry, but we ain't got time to sit an' deliberate."

"I know, Broadcast, I am just...feeling overwhelmed."

The comms officer blinked. "You took on Megatron an' now _this_ is overwhelmin'?"

"Broadcast, please understand. I believed we had dealt the Decepticons a crippling blow. I thought we would have more time before having to worry about them again."

"You were thinkin' good thoughts, Optimus, but this situation was inevitable. Why don'tcha take five an' I'll handle command for a while?" He felt safe hovering one finger over the button that would send the message about the shuttle to the Ark.

"I cannot afford to let my guard down," Prime replied, sighing.

"True, but you ain't gonna do anyone any good if you run down on your feet." Broadcast waited again. When another sigh came over the line, he moved his hand away from the console. "I'm thinkin' it's time to delegate. If this gets anymore spread out, we ain't gonna have a choice anyway."

"I agree." Prime switched to the group line, having decided. "I am going to let Broadcast handle the orders for the bots on the Ark. Now, I still want the SkySpy to confirm Rattlelatch's situation. Ratchet, get it in the air and send its tracking data to Tracks so he can follow its progress and intervene if need be."

A chorus of "Rodgers" answered him, Tracks sounding resentful. Broadcast wasn't surprised when a private line request from the warrior came up. "Broadcast, this is ridiculous. There is no evidence of danger here, and you and I both know Rattlelatch cannot fight well."

"I know, but we gotta get with the program here. Optimus is the main man, now. I'm just the guy at the switchboard, like I used to be. I don't mind it, even though I know we need someone else to call the shots when Optimus ain't up to it."

"So if something goes wrong, Prime is to blame?" Tracks sounded more worried than cold for a change.

"No, it ain't. It'd be all'a ours fault for not cooperatin' more. We all gotta find our places an' work like we used to. This crew's gonna crash if we don't."

There was a long pause, then Tracks said, "You are entirely correct. I have been viewing the smaller scale. I apologize, Broadcast."

"Hey, it ain't me you gotta apologize to. But thanks, bro, 'cuz I'm gonna make this a memo to ev'ryone. You ain't been the only one resistin' change an' it's about time ev'rybody fessed up."

"Good luck, my friend. I will be waiting for the SkySpy's findings. Tracks, out."

Broadcast smiled to himself. Progress already. He tapped the button to send the information to the Ark about the shuttle. He would contact them again when the SkySpy data came in, since it would give better coordinates. There was no telling how close Rattlelatch might be to his last location. He remained just as worried as Tracks was, though.

As he sat back to compose his memo to the rest of the Autobots, he heard a peculiar sound buzz quickly over the lines. He tapped a few keys as the sound faded, making adjustments to trace it and replay it. This time he turned the dials on both sides of his head. He opened a line to all bots on the base. "I'm pickin' up a faint signal. Actually, it's more like a..vibration? Just wanna check if anyone experienced any equipment blips." He adjusted his left-side dial again. "It's somethin' low an'...s-subliminal..."

The entire base seemed to shake as a particularly loud airplane flew by. On the second pass, everyone knew it wasn't just a commercial aircraft.

Arcee reported over the group line, "I have confirmation on an F-18. It is circling to come over us again."

Broadcast brought up all external camera feeds, analyzing all images they had managed to catch of the jet. "'Con insignia confirmed!" He jerked back as the peculiar buzz came again. _"Dirge._ Dampening all frequencies now!"

Optimus responded immediately with orders. "Arcee, Huffer, begin counterattack. Broadcast, remain where you are. All other Autobots report to the main gate."

There was the sound of a large door rolling shut from down the hall, then Ratchet came huffing into the comms room. "Sequence eight-three-three to trigger the boomer." He then ducked his head, leaning over to show Rhythm and Blues nestled against his back. "Do you want to test run them outside or do you think you will be too occupied?"

Broadcast frowned in thought. "Leave 'em. They ain't ready yet." He directed the pair to jump down. Ratchet straightened then nodded and left, his footsteps pounding on the metal floor as he ran. Broadcast had Rhythm and Blues climb up on the console and punch the buttons he couldn't immediately reach. It made everything go faster to the point where he was keeping ahead of the way Dirge was going through the lines and using his ability to set off subsonic frequencies that triggered certain effects on a mechanoid's system, mainly that which reacted to fear. "Good luck makin' a buncha 'fraidybots outta us!" Broadcast muttered.

"Yeah!" Rhythm and Blues said in unison.

* * *

Outside, Arcee had positioned everyone to cover Dirge regardless of the direction he flew. Huffer, Moonracer, and Arcee herself formed a triangle with Optimus to the northeast and Ratchet to the southeast. Perceptor was stationed by the garage entrance at Ratchet's request. Optimus knew this tactic wasn't going to help them keep the base secret, but they had to take the Decepticon down before he decided to threaten the humans. The ones in the near vicinity couldn't possibly have been spared the noise of the jet. As Optimus lined up another shot he took a mental tally of the reported Decepticons. _Ratbat, Ravage, Squawktalk, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, and Dirge. It is obvious Soundwave is directing them. Yet how many others could be following him?_

Dirge looped upward suddenly, evading their shots and quickly disappearing amongst the clouds. Broadcast scanned all frequencies to see how far in the range the Decepticon might be. Meanwhile, Dirge was searching frequencies, too. He tracked the point Broadcast had reached and triggered his fear-inducing subsonics generator.

The Decepticon grinned to himself as Broadcast's terrified scream filled the Cybertronian-level airwaves. _A pity the Autobot did not also have access to the human airwaves. But now that the scraplet is taken care of..._ He circled and dove downward without concern for the natural flight capabilities of the form he had taken. He righted himself just after coming below the Autobot's firing range and triggered the subsonic generator again. Without Broadcast blocking it, they were all susceptible.

To his disappointment, not all of them were reduced to a trembling state. He had expected to need a second pass over Prime, but the medic was also still on his feet, as was the femme with a crossbow and the red mech by the door. He scanned their superstructures in turn, then laughed out loud. He added the mockery to his second pass. This time only Optimus and the red mech remained standing, but the medic kept his wits about him long enough to shoot in Dirge's general direction.

Inside the comm room, Broadcast was huddled on the floor under his chair, arms wrapped tightly around his folded legs. When something clattered to the ground, he shrieked and scrambled in the opposite direction. After a few moments he recovered enough to peek over at it and saw that Rhythm had slid off of the console. With his connection disrupted, both minimechs were just lifeless exoskeletons. Broadcast reached out and grasped Rhythm's hand. He had the eerie feeling of touching the deceased Jazz.

Tightening his hold, Broadcast forced his relay system to put itself right, then reactivated his link to Rhythm and Blues. Together they attacked the console to restore the invaded frequencies. _For you, bro._

He was too late to prevent the two other assaults, but he would be fragged if he would let Dirge do it again. Instead he was just in time to catch and record the jet saying something garbled in their own language. Then Dirge took off toward the north.

"Ev'rybody with me? Sorry for losin' it there. That dire-soundin' pronouncement in Decepticon-accented Cybertronese translates to 'Now you're in for it, Autobums'. I'm guessin' we should prep ourselves for more uninvited visitors."

Outside, Arcee was muttering unpleasantries with such creativity that Ironhide would be proud. She hurried to help Huffer to his feet, then they checked Moonracer. Ratchet sat up on his knees and shook his head, giving the right side a hearty _thump_ with his palm, then he called out, "Auditory receptor check!"

"Ratchet!" Arcee cried with irritation. "That is not helpful! Come here and see to Moonracer!" She gestured to the other femme, who was clinging to Huffer's arm. He was still shaky, himself.

Ratchet grunted as he got to his feet, staggering to one side. "I have to see to myself, it appears. Blast that Dirge." He made it over to Moonracer and Huffer, first running scans over each of them to locate which part of their systems were still being disrupted.

"More bad news," Broadcast's voice called over their comm lines. "Heard back from the Ark. They're under attack by the Combaticons, with Ramjet, Thrust, and Astrotrain thrown in for good measure."

_"How_ many able-bodied mechs are there, again?" Prime asked.

"Rhetorical, Optimus?" Ratchet inquired as he worked on Moonracer via an open panel in the back of her head. "After this, we are getting forms that can clear the atmosphere whether the government agrees or not."

Broadcast piped up again, "Annnnd y'all need to transform and be inconspicuous 'cuz we got a truck comin' in. Guess they missed the signs."

Ratchet triggered Moonracer's transformation circuits and stepped back, about to do the same, yet he paused. "Can you tell what type of truck, Broadcast? Also, check the misdirection field's status."

"It's outta range of visual, but it sounds like one of those things that transports cars to the dealership. Similar to Prime's engine, sorta."

"They put junker cars on those, also, do they not?" Ratchet began to look around warily.

"Yeah," Broadcast replied. "But there ain't supposed to be any comin' in today. Got visual," he abruptly amended. "Yeah, it's a car carrier. Got a few cars on it, but they ain't junkers at all. Comin' in by the south road."

Optimus turned in the indicated direction and held his gun by his side. "Autobots, hold your positions." No one moved as the car carrier entered the junkyard. The tractor pulling it was on par with Prime's size in vehicle mode, and the cars it carried were an admirable collection of racing vehicles.

Ratchet released his cutting saw from his left arm casement.

The two top cars sprang off the carrier, the section that had held them peeling to either side to free the other two. Then the truck cab began to transform, the carrier parts joining its form. When the mech was finished, he stood a head taller than Optimus and had an unpleasant grin on his face. His body appeared more bulky with the gray carrier armor over his purple plating, but everyone knew he was still just as agile with or without it.

Optimus refused to be intimidated. "Motormaster. What are _you_ doing here?"

The Decepticon chortled. "Stunticons, ATTACK!" He plowed right into Optimus while the four cars with him sped off toward the other Autobots. Prime had planted his feet in anticipation of the move, yet was pushed back all the same, leaving furrows in ground. He grabbed hold of Motormaster's arms to keep from losing his balance altogether, also keeping the Decepticon from lashing out. Motormaster growled and tried to shove Optimus away, leading to a grappling match.

Arcee stood in front of Huffer and Moonracer, hefting her energy bow. She wavered between the yellow and black cars that were heading toward what looked to them like the easiest pickings, letting Drag Strip and Wildrider think she couldn't chose between them. "It has been a while, boys. Let's race!" She fired off two rapid shots, one bouncing off the center of Drag Strip's hood, the other off the center of Wildrider's. She then transformed and revved her engine. Just as the two Decepticons closed in, Huffer jumped up and fired on them with dual plasma guns. They swerved and transformed, unaffected by the latest attack. Arcee drove a circle around them in the meantime, braking hard to spray them with gravel. Then Drag Strip was struck in the side of the head by an old engine block.

Huffer was already running when Wildrider shot at him. Arcee took off with Drag Strip in pursuit. Meanwhile, Optimus commed over to Ratchet, "Tell me, Ratchet...what are your...Decepticon senses...telling you?"

The medic was currently engaging Breakdown, the white and blue Stunticon dodging around as Ratchet made repeated attempts to take off his head with his saw. Ratchet feinted right then brought his left leg around, knocking Breakdown off-balance just long enough for Ratchet to take a look around. Everyone was engaged except for Perceptor, who remained by the entrance and was taking shots toward whoever needed support. All of the Stunticons were attacking -- except Dead End, who he just now realized was nowhere in sight. Ratchet swung around as Breakdown climbed back to his feet and started shooting at him. Ratchet took his shield from his back and tried to block while looking for Dead End at the same time. Finally he saw the dark red and gray mech sneaking along the garage wall, out of Perceptor's visual range. He opened a private line to the scientist. "Perceptor, to your right!"

Then Ratchet shoved his shield into Breakdown, knocking him over again, then stepped over him and kicked him in the head as he went down. In the few seconds bought by the move, Ratchet analyzed what they knew so far. _They were possibly making attempts to get information from Lennox, or at the very least trick us into splitting our forces. They have attacked the Ark with an attack following here...yet if there hadn't been anyone on the Ark to tell us, would they have still had a group up there? The ship is useless to them without..._

He opened a secure Autobot-only frequency. "They are after the key to the Ark! Perceptor, get inside and meet up with Broadcast! Both of you go to the back chamber, quick!" Ratchet took out his chaingun and laid down a line of fire across the entrance as Perceptor fled inside. Dead End was forced to retreat, trailing smoke but no visible damage from Perceptor's cannon.

Ratchet narrowed his optics. He commed over the group line, "They have a new type of shielding. I will attempt to analyze it, but I need someone to keep this miscreant occupied." As he fended off Breakdown with his shield again, he glanced around to see who might be available. Huffer was back by Moonracer, who had recovered enough to transform and, while 'hiding' behind Huffer, was getting in her share of shots against Wildrider. Prime was in a stalemate with Motormaster, which was preferable to the Decepticon winning. Arcee was racing Drag Strip along the perimeter. "Arcee! This way!" Ratchet began to back toward the garage, firing over the top of his shield to distract Breakdown.

Arcee understood the unspoken plan and veered toward Breakdown, Drag Strip's tires screeching as he followed. Ratchet shoved Breakdown into their path. Arcee turned to avoid hitting him, but Drag Strip wasn't able to. He ran over his teammate, transforming after and stomping back to him. "Idiot! Stop getting in my way!"

Ratchet ignored them. "Arcee, find Dead End. We must--"

He was interrupted by a bellow from Motormaster that sounded like, "Stunticons, UNITE!"

"No!" Arcee screamed. She transformed and ran toward the big Decepticon. "Concentrate fire on Motormaster!" The Autobots did so, and Motormaster laughed as he abruptly freed a hand to slam his fist into Prime's chin in a resounding right hook. Optimus stumbled and was knocked off his feet as Dead End, in vehicle mode, ran into him from behind. The smaller Decepticon transformed and slid free of the potential fall out, skidding up beside Motormaster's left leg.

"I made a tactical error," Arcee growled. She turned and shot at Drag Strip. Ratchet followed suit. "You will not be getting a leg up over us, Decepticons!"

Ratchet uttered a groan at the joke, doubting that it was unintentional. He transformed as Breakdown and Drag Strip headed for Motormaster. _Where is Wildrider?_ he wondered as he sped up to ram the two Stunticons.

"Ratch--!" He heard Arcee call out, but too late -- a laughing Wildrider rammed into _him_, causing him to skid sideways and almost up onto his right-side wheels. Ratchet shifted to balance his weight, righting himself but losing the race with the three. Optimus made a last attempt to bring at least one down, but his weapon was just as useless against them. The three fell in beside Motormaster. Armor panels began shifting on all of them faster than the Autobots could blink -- or shoot.

* * *

Broadcast slammed his fists down on the console as he watched the battlefield. He couldn't get a lock on any of the Stunticons when they were racing around, owing, he'd bet, to their shielding. He turned in his seat as he heard footsteps. Perceptor dashed in, looked panicked. "Broadcast, we must go _now!"_

"Was just about to wrap things up here." He leapt down, directing Rhythm and Blues to jump on his back. They transformed, fitting onto an extra frame strut between his shoulders. Perceptor led the way out then they ran down the hallway. "This's a disaster. Didn't think us reunitin' would mean just _more_ fightin' with the 'Cons! An' if Ratch is right, this base is toast. Even Prime can't stop a chargin' Menasor!"

"Did Ratchet not relay the code to you for the main defense grid?"

"He did. But if they got shieldin' to deflect energy weapons, an' it looks like they do, then I don't wanna be in a fifty mile radius of this place when it ricochets off that big bruiser."

"I fear I must agree that your reasoning is sound. We must find an alternative means of defense." They reached the elevator to the lower levels. Perceptor tapped the button to open the doors, then they boarded. "We should have prepared for this eventuality."

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda. We been preparin' to transfer stuff from the Ark. Didn't think _you_ of all mechs would forget that. I heard it was your project, after all."

"Yes, so it is. There is no need to be irritated by that."

Broadcast looked down, then up to the ceiling. "Sorry, man. I've been feelin' outta sorts over bein' separated from you guys. I know we're all still on the same team, but it feels...I dunno."

"I have not yet composed a description of the emotion, although I do understand. I would have preferred to spend less time in the laboratory during these past several days. However, the suggestion Ratchet made to me was of significant importance for the greater good."

"I don't even think anyone _but_ you an' Ratchet know about it. Mind if I ask what gives?"

"My apologies, but yes, I do mind. Wait until we reach the chamber and then I will explain. Also, you are mistaken. Someone else _does_ know."

"Which is why we're runnin' instead of checkin' up on 'Latch."

"Precisely."

Broadcast slid to a halt before the door to the back chamber. He tapped a panel and the keypad was moved down the wall to his height. He punched in the password and fretted out loud, "I'm suddenly wonderin' where Dirge got off to."

"I could not obtain a visual confirmation of the direction in which he departed."

"North." Broadcast went rigid. "Oakland! He's after Chromia's team!" He glanced about him. "Hope I got enough juice to get through these walls _and_ get through to them in time!"

* * *

The Secretary of Defense had just gotten out of a meeting where several military officials had walked out with documents bearing his signature. He was carrying another stack under his arm and was planning to view them elsewhere. Trailbreaker was waiting at the curb outside the building, holographic driver standing ready to open the door for him.

As Keller reached the LaCrosse and gave a tight smile to the 'driver', the sound of booming bass came from around the corner in the form of a dark red Honda with silver racing stripes. Keller could have sworn its windows were rattling in time with the music. He shook his head. "What a shame." Trailbreaker's driver nodded in agreement then opened the door.

The Honda halted in the middle of the road and transformed.

Keller stared, hand on the inside door latch. The resulting robot had a red band encircling the top half of its face. "He's...not one of yours, is he?"

"No," the hologram replied, moving in front of him. "Stay behind me, sir."

Keller's eyes remained on the invading robot. "Contact the network. Tell them I need an evacuation _immediately."_

The supposed-Decepticon was looking around at the buildings. The plating on its arms shifted around until a matched set of pile drivers took their place. The bot stepped forward. The mechanism of its left arm slammed into the ground, rattling cars and windows all along the street. The right arm slammed down, then both at the same time. Car alarms went off and people who had come to look out from buildings began to scream.

"Cat's out of the bag again," Keller muttered.

Trailbreaker transformed, bringing his fists together in front of him. "Hello, Rumble! I hear the reason Soundwave keeps his face covered is because he's so _ugly!_ I guess it runs in the family!"

The Decepticon jerked his head toward the Autobot and uttered something in Cybertronian that sounded foul. He ran toward Trailbreaker, slamming down a pile driver every other step. The concrete was splitting all around him.

The very top of Trailbreaker's head raised, panels rearranging themselves. "Stay within five feet of me, John, no matter _what_ happens."

Keller looked at the building he had just exited, thinking of the bomb shelter beneath it. He then looked at Rumble, and, scowling, moved close to touch Trailbreaker's ankle. "Will do."

Rumble came close enough to bring back his right arm to deliver the worst punch to the face anyone could receive, when a glint of yellow burst into existence in front of Trailbreaker. The force field crackled into the visible spectrum as Rumble thrust his arm forward -- and was promptly stopped cold, then hot as jolts of energy wracked his frame. The Decepticon screamed as he yanked his arm free. Keller dropped his papers and clapped his hands over his ears.

Rumble sneered as his systems compensated for the power surge. He swung both arms back then forward, causing the pile driver mechanism to clang against itself in the air and creating an awful noise. _"You mess with Rumble, you're goin' for a tumble!"_ He slammed his arms into the ground at the edge of the force field, sending cracks underneath it and rocking the ground beneath Trailbreaker's feet.

The Autobot shifted around, mindful of Keller as he found better footing for a moment. "What weapons do you have?!" Keller yelled to be heard over the noise.

"Several, but none I want to use in the street!"

Rumble abruptly changed his assault to the force field itself. He wasn't electrocuted this time because he was not partially in its boundaries, but he didn't make any progress in denting it, nor did his actions seem to rattle Trailbreaker.

Keller instinctively shielded his face with his arms, but when the Autobot stood calmly, appearing thoughtful, the human lowered them and clenched his fists. "Do what you need to in order to contain him! We need to know what he knows about the other Decepticons."

Trailbreaker snapped his fingers. "Contain him!" Keller was unsure what the Autobot was going to do. He watched with curiosity as the bottom edge of the force field began to curl away from them, slowly curving toward Rumble, who continued his assault on the upper part of the energy shield.

**To be Continued**


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's note: Additional disclaimer at the end.  
_

* * *

**Reunions - Part Eight**

"Sir!" An agent came running toward Banachek, his face white as a sheet. "Th-that vehicle out front -- it just transformed. It said it needed to speak to Captain Lennox right away."

"What vehicle?" Will blinked. Gears and Windcharger were supposed to have remained at his house.

"We were followed," Tom said with a frown.

"Please, sir, it's urgent," the agent pleaded. "He said Autobase is under attack by something called Stunticons!"

Will traded glances with Tom, then both slowly turned to look at Powerglide, who had transformed and was looking down, his expression grim.

* * *

"Autobase is under attack!" was all Chromia had to say to mobilize Tracks and Ironhide. They began to head out of the city, Epps with them. Ironhide was convinced they had been misled into thinking their human allies were in danger. Bobby insisted on coming, wanting to help if he could.

"Best place for you," Ironhide told his passenger, "Would be inside the base, assisting Broadcast. We merely need to get you through the entrance before we all get stomped."

"Explain this 'Menasor' thing to me again. You said he's a big robot made out of other big robots. That doesn't seem physically possible when there are so many complexities in just _moving_ a limb. How do you guys walk around, become vehicles, and _also_ become additional limbs for someone else?" Epps gestured in disbelief as he spoke.

"Ask Ratchet," Ironhide grumped.

"He ain't here. I want to know, 'cuz that will give me an idea of weak spots."

"Menasor does not have many physical weaks spots. It is his collective mind that can be his downfall. However, if he is utterly focused on destruction, it can be difficult to get the attention of the individuals."

Epps stared out of the front windshield as he tried to wrap his head around the explanation. "So we're basically fighting the Borg."

"The who?"

"From a science fiction show. The 'collective mind' reminded me of 'em."

"What tactics were used against them?" Ironhide asked, his tone curious.

"I can't remember. I didn't see the last couple of movies." Bobby leaned his elbow on the open window frame, tapping the top with his hand as he looked at the buildings going by. "Tell me how his 'collective mind' can be his downfall."

"A team that combines like the Stunticons is only as effective as the unit is when working together. The Stunticons hate each other, but Motormaster has bullied them into keeping in line. They _can_ cooperate together, but they would each _prefer_ to undermine the others."

"Uh-huh..." Epps said thoughtfully. "What are they each li--"

He was interrupted as a spray of machine gun fire tore up the street in front of them.

"Unknown jet circling! It will come back in at two o'clock!" Chromia called out. She transformed without hesitating, forming up her cannon arm. Tracks did the same.

Epps jumped from his seat, only to swing himself around to Ironhide's bed. "Hold your fire! We need to confirm who it is, and if we have to fight, get this away from civilian areas!"

"He's right," Ironhide called out. "Human cities do not stand up well to our battles."

"And what if it _is_ a human flying that thing?" Chromia tensed as the jet flew by again, but it didn't fire on them.

"Because it is Dirge," Tracks said, one hand touching the side of his head. "I just received a message from Broadcast on the specifics. He said Dirge hit the base then went north."

Upon that announcement the jet circled around yet again, this time shooting two even lines along the street directly toward them. Chromia grabbed Epps, shielding him, while Ironhide sped through the barrage and transformed on the other side. Tracks took aim and fired at Dirge's underside. An amplified growl answered him. The jet then flipped, transforming, and Dirge landed forcefully on the street, cracking the pavement.

Chromia put Bobby down, whispering for him to run. She turned away, optics bright with anger. She did not see Epps hurry along the sidewalk, ducking behind parked cars as he headed toward Dirge. The Decepticon was either oblivious or did not care. "Chromia! I have not seen you since AltazeRuz. Tell me, how is Steelsever these days?"

If the comment was supposed to effect her, Chromia showed no sign of it. She continued to hold her weapon arm pointed at him. "What are the Decepticons after, Dirge?! Tell us NOW!"

Dirge chortled as he looked down the barrels of the four weapons pointed his way. "This WORLD!!" he roared, clenching his fists. His voice carried throughout the air, echoing off of the surrounding buildings and returning as he continued to hold the last syllable. Chromia felt her arm twitch, while Tracks' legs began to shake. His optics dimmed as well and he took a step backward. But then he punched his weapon arm with his free hand, forcing his feet to move forward two steps.

Ironhide rumbled something to Chromia. She moved aside and he took center position, aiming both cannons at Dirge. The Decepticon didn't flinch -- or stop his unsettling crooning. Ironhide fired one cannon, then the other.

Dirge whipped both arms up and let loose his machine guns, taking out the missile, but the pulse blast hit him full force. He was knocked backward, but he regained his footing and laughed, then leapt upward to transform. A buzz went through their systems -- and, unseen, through the telephone lines. Dirge took off across the city.

Humans screams of terror came in his wake.

Ironhide growled out, "No!"

Epps came out from his cover, wide-eyed but he had his wits about him since Dirge's attack was currently out of their range. "How are we going to get him grounded long enough to stop him?!"

_"We_ do not. _I_ will." Tracks reformed his arm then changed to car mode. Then his panels rearranged themselves further until he resembled, well...

"A flyin' car? You gotta be kid--"

Epps was cut off as Tracks gunned his engine, traversed the ruined street, and took off into the air, his dual exhaust pipes spewing fire like a rocket. Bobby gave Ironhide a _look._ "I know what that Sector Seven guy showed us, but, man, you guys really _can_ transform into anything. Next thing I know, my mp3 player will get up and dance to its own music."

"Keep it on a leash if it does," Ironhide said absently as he followed Tracks' progress. He knew Optimus would have preferred another way that wouldn't have exposed them like this, but the choices were few. He looked at Chromia. "Ideas? I have a suggestion or two."

"Yes. I have devised a strategy." She commed Tracks with an external connection so that Ironhide and Bobby heard, too. "Tracks, drive him south. We will meet you at the waterside."

"Water?" Epps questioned. "Wait, you mean the inner harbor?"

Chromia transformed. "Get in and belt up!"

Ironhide transformed and the two drove off at top speed. Only when Dirge passed overhead did they have to stop as panicked humans spilled out of the buildings. Chromia and Ironhide slowed to a crawl in order to not spook them further. Epps dug his fingers into the bottom of the passenger side seat, his teeth gritted and his heart racing. After what he had been through before with Decepticons, he wasn't afraid of Dirge himself. But the terror was involuntary, invoking memories of things he _was_ afraid of.

"Fight it, Robert Epps," Chromia hissed to him. "You are a brave man. You cannot be defeated by someone like Dirge."

"You got _that_ right, lady," he said between his teeth, "But try telling natural impulses that!"

"I know it is difficult to override. We are warriors, we have no choice." She picked up speed again as they reached clear streets.

"Excuse me for saying, but _everyone's_ afraid of something, sometime. It keeps you alive." Bobby began to relax slightly, now darting glances out of the window to look for Dirge or Tracks. "Blackout scared the crap out of all of us when he hit our base, but we still fought back. I guess you guys can just switch it off."

"Some of it we can," Chromia admitted hesitantly. "I know I, at least, have one constant fear. However, Dirge has little to do with it."

"You don't have to say another word. I know what you're talkin' about."

With a screech of tires they reached their destination -- the inner harbor docks. On cue, Dirge came spiraling down with smoke trailing from his left engine. He was able to transform to ease his landing. Likewise, Tracks flipped forms in mid air and landed beside Ironhide as the two other Autobots joined him. Epps took cover behind an overturned row boat as the three targeted Dirge again.

"Surrender," Chromia called out. "You will only have one chance. Tell us your objective!"

The Decepticon snorted. "What does it matter? _You_ three can do nothing about it. Autobase has the key and you cannot stop us now!" His guns came up without him having to move his arms. He fired along their line before they could react. He laughed, turning it into another vocal attack.

Tracks' arm shook just as the last time. He muttered angrily and clapped his free hand on top of his elbow. "You are delaying the inevitable! You will not get us with that trick again!"

A police siren arose from one block over, coming toward them. Epps looked toward the sky. "What I wouldn't give for a cheap walkie-talkie right now." He snuck a peek over the spine of the boat, judging the distance between himself and the street. "Gotta tell those boys the situation's in control before they start shooting." He checked again, then, keeping low, headed for the street.

The police car arrived before he did, but only sat there. Bobby figured the driver and his partner were probably staring. He climbed the rest of the embankment and was about to call out to announce himself when the car exploded into a loud clatter of metal. A menacing voice roared out as the mid-transforming mechanoid lunged toward Epps. He tumbled down the embankment but recovered enough to shuffle backwards to the boat. The robot standing in the car's place laughed as he straightened to his full height.

Ironhide turned to look, uttering a rumble of displeasure. "Barricade. It appears he did not _stay_ terminated."

Dirge transformed and took off across the city again while Barricade fired on the Autobots with a pair of shoulder-mounted laser guns to keep them busy. Chromia took a few hits before leveling her arm cannon. Then Dirge came back, the very air thrumming with a subsonic assault. Ironhide stood his ground, glancing first at Chromia, who had stopped to clutch at her wounded shoulder, then at Tracks. The blue mech was trying not to give in, but he kept flinching and his gun arm shook. Dirge circled, and Ironhide noticed Barricade had stopped shooting. He looked toward the street from the corner of his optics, seeing that Barricade was waiting for Dirge to weaken them further. "Tracks, take Bobby and draw off Barricade. We will handle Dirge."

"But--" Tracks stared in the direction of the approaching jet, then looked at Ironhide and nodded. He waved to Epps, who ran over as Tracks transformed. The Corvette stopped long enough for Bobby to get in, then drove off. He shot up the embankment and onto the road, burning rubber on the way. Barricade transformed and pursued, siren wailing.

As Dirge flew over then circled again, Ironhide wrapped his left arm around Chromia's waist. She nodded to him, slipping her right arm behind him. They both shuttered their optics, identical blue glowing spots appearing behind their chest armor, the spots first pulsing separately then synching up. As Dirge dropped lower, they brought their free arms together, mechanisms unfolding and joining up to create a new type of cannon.

Dirge scanned it and knew it wasn't a weapon anyone should challenge. But he wasn't planning to -- nor could -- turn away, so he increased his subsonic generators to maximum output. He never had the chance to use them.

The sound of the pulse blast detonating against Decepticon armor was heard across the city, along with Dirge's song of agony.

* * *

Tracks sped through two intersections and took a sharp right at a third, his tires squealing. Epps kept watch through the back windshield. "What's the plan? Should I tuck-and-roll so you can blast his fender off?"

"For now, outrun him and get him away from the harbor. The sooner Dirge is dealt with, the better off we will be."

"Why not fly circles around him to herd him away, rather than catch some shots in the rear?"

"Can you handle the G-forces?"

Bobby smirked. "Try me."

"All right, then. Keep your seat belt fastened."

Epps heard clattering from outside the car and then grabbed the shoulder strap as the inside of the door broke up and moved around. He had to duck his head as part of the roof also shifted. "Just give me warning on what's gonna move next. I don't want to find out the seat belt is the _only_ thing keeping me in here!"

"Do not worry, the seats will remain as they are."

Epps glanced out of the back window again. "I don't suppose you can reconfigure the glove compartment into a Sabot launcher for me?"

"I cannot, but I will make the suggestion to Ratchet when we finish this. In general, our weapons are not fully detachable. We use energy resources from our own bodies to power them."

"How about carrying a spare?"

"That is very possible. Hang on, now." Tracks accelerated then took off, tires withdrawing into his undercarriage.

Bobby watched the buildings as they flew past. "Smooth take off considering the landscape. You have external weapons in this mode?"

"Of course. Just...hang on to your seat belt again. It will become cold in here." Epps did so and the doors began to shift again. The bottom half of both folded upward on the outside and a pair of missile launchers formed up from beneath the vehicle. Tracks turned and came back around along the street they had launched from. Barricade had transformed and seemed to be waiting for them as Tracks reached firing range. One missile impacted to Barricade's left, the other hit him square on as he shifted to the right.

A series of laser fire came at Tracks through the smoke. "He is still standing," the Autobot muttered. He circled around for another strike, but the rapid shots followed him. Tracks turned sideways to dodge the assault. Bobby braced his feet to keep from sliding toward the open section of the door. He yelled when a shot came clean through the opening and struck the inside of the roof. "Left! Left!" he cried, trying to press against the seat so he wouldn't stick out far enough to be grazed.

"You _don't_ have to tell me!" Tracks straightened and flew higher, then dipped unexpectedly as another pair of missiles locked into place. Barricade adjusted his aim, but Tracks increased his speed and flew right over his head. Something clacked against his back fender -- and a weight on his trunk suddenly disrupted his flight path. As he compensated, the weight advanced to his roof. Epps glanced back just as Barricade's leg went by the windshield. "Oh, sh--"

_Skrakt_ went something across the roof.

To his credit, Tracks had evened out his flight and didn't let the weight bother him further, but it was hardly an ideal situation. He tipped to the right, but found that Barricade had a grip on his wings. "Hang on, Robert Epps!"

"You got it! I'm gonna start praying, too, if it's all right with you!"

Tracks went into a spiral, first remaining level in the air then heading toward the ground. Barricade's grip didn't loosen, even when Tracks swooped toward an overpass. Only when they were within five feet of it did Barricade let go on one side, swinging under the Corvette and getting a new handhold via the opening in the driver's side door. He punched through the rest of it. The sudden shift of weight caused Tracks to turn sideways. He couldn't change course in time or even drop lower. His right wing was sheared off by the overpass. He and Epps both screamed while Barricade let go and dropped to the ground.

Bobby shut his eyes, expecting the Corvette to go spiraling into a concrete barrier. He heard Tracks make a frightening sound then something closed around him -- he wanted to believe it was a giant hand, but it felt too rough and piecemeal. Metal clattered and shrieked against itself, then shrieked against concrete. Epps felt the impact with the road. He was held steady, however, throughout the following slide. But as Tracks fetched up against a barrier, the sudden stop jarred Epps' spine, giving him a case of whiplash.

He winced, although had other concerns as the half-formed digits holding him loosened and he fell toward the ground all the same. It wasn't so far that he couldn't land on his feet but he ended up sitting on the ground. He kept his head down as he massaged his neck.

Nearby, a great hiss of steam burst through the air. Tracks groaned. A loud clang followed. Bobby lifted his head to see how the mech was faring. The clang had come from Tracks' arm, the skeletal hand that had been holding Epps twitching and leaking fluid from between the joints. Tracks himself looked like a 3-D puzzle gone horribly wrong, his bottom half partly in vehicle mode while his top half just looked mangled. There were no face plates around his optics, just the cameras themselves and the mechanisms of his olfactory sensor and his vocal processing unit.

Epps scrambled up, although he moved carefully -- unsure how the mech's sensors would react to sudden moves. "Tracks -- can you hear me? Are you gonna be all right?" The blue optics looked toward him. He stared back, amazed at the depth in those lenses. He reached to put a hand on what existed of Tracks' face, but the mech drew back. Bobby saw an electric current dancing amongst tiny receptors and dropped his hand to his side. "Lemme know if there's anything I can do to help..."

Tracks' optics brightened, his head lifting slightly, and Epps thought he might be able to speak. Instead, a scrape on the pavement made him turn to see what Tracks was actually looking at. Barricade, swinging what looked like the manual weedwacker from below, stepped around a displaced barrier and closed in, growling something in Cybertronian.

Tracks uttered what could have been a response, but it was too broken and foreign for Epps to begin to guess. He backed toward Tracks' head, standing beside the Autobot's face. "I don't know what to do, so I'll just say it was an honor to meet you, Tracks. I would have liked to take one more of these suckers out before I left..."

The drone of a plane came from above the hill beside the roadway. Epps didn't bother to look up. _Another one, come to watch? Or did Dirge win?_

Machine gun fire rained down -- starting in front of Tracks and progressing _toward_ Barricade. The Decepticon growled as the plane flew past him and headed off over the road. Barricade snorted in Tracks' direction. "I will be back. You are not going anywhere." He laughed, then tore off after the plane.

Bobby stared after the plane. "Was it just me, or did that thing look like it just flew in outta World War Two?" Tracks didn't reply. Epps moved in front of his face, squatting down to study the Autobot. "Blink if you're repairable." Tracks' optics dimmed, then brightened again. "I'll take that as a blink. I wish I could do something..." He recalled how he had felt when they found Fig wounded after the battle with Scorponok. He knew what he _could_ do. "I'm right here, man. I won't leave you."

* * *

Barricade was fast becoming irritated with the little plane's agility. It seemed abnormally fast and the pilot had extraordinary reaction time for being a human in a human-built machine. Or two humans, as a heat scan revealed. They kept dodging his laser shots and continued to nail him with their puny machine gun. A futile effort, and he wasn't sure what they were trying to prove. Of course, he had been toying with them for about ten minutes. _I should put them out of their misery and return to destroying that foolish flying Autobot and his human._

He had wanted them to suffer, so he had let them lay there instead of finishing them off. Now he wished he had because the current chase had become tedious. He stopped on the shoulder of the road, looking for a vantage point while the military plane was busy looping back toward him. His sensors alerted him to two vehicles approaching from the east -- the other Autobots. He growled. They must have defeated Dirge. He didn't hesitate a moment in sending his report, transforming, and speeding off at a velocity and silence unachievable by normal human cars. He crossed the city before turning into an underground parking lot, confident the two Autobots and the human in the plane had been unable to track him.

Since he could not detect it, he had no way of knowing the plane was perfectly capable of keeping a target lock on him. However, there was a greater concern, so once the location of the garage was transmitted to the black Topkick heading for a damaged overpass, the plane turned south.

* * *

Ironhide and Chromia transformed to examine the overpass, but even as he touched the scraped portion, Ironhide caught a glimpse of the mangled form across the way. "Oh, no..." He ducked under the structure, Chromia at his heels. "Tracks!"

Bobby stood to meet them. "I don't know what he did to himself, but he saved my life. I asked him if he was repairable, he signaled 'yes' with a blink."

Chromia knelt by Tracks' head and spoke quietly in Cybertronian. Epps moved away as Ironhide stepped in to listen to the fragmented reply. Bobby was reminded of Bumblebee's cries just before Sam brought a halt to the 'study' S7 was performing on the yellow Autobot. He moved further away, turning to look toward the city. The sound of metal sliding over metal brought his attention back to the three Autobots. It looked like Ironhide and Chromia were helping Tracks transform, nudging panels and freeing cables that became snagged on misaligned plates. The arm and hand he had used to hold Bobby remained skeletal.

By the time they were finished Tracks was able to stand. Armor was missing from his left side, back, and chest, the arm on that side hanging loose in its socket. Fluid was still leaking from it, dripping to the ground. His face plates were flat. Epps knew the signs of a soldier taking his pain stoically.

Ironhide looked the blue mech over. "Ratchet will have to fix the rest. How many errors from your alternator circuits?" The reply was something like a deep, digitized gurgle. Bobby wondered why Tracks didn't respond in English. Ironhide inspected the other warrior's damaged side. "Yes, I see it. We could either 'procure' a tow truck or I could carry you. I prefer the tow truck." Tracks said something that sounded like an offended agreement.

"Leave the procuring to me," Epps called. He waved his open wallet. "I got the badge for it. Chromia, can I hitch a ride? I know of a couple of places we can try."

"Affirmative." The femme transformed, backing up a few feet as if to study Tracks before Bobby hopped in. A private comm from Ironhide made her pause again.

"Do you think we will make it to Autobase in time? You could manage things here while I set out for the base."

"Stay with Tracks. It will be for the best." She drove off with Epps citing directions to the closest towing center.

Ironhide watched, then scanned the sky before returning to Tracks' side. The blue mech indicated that he wanted to sit, so Ironhide provided a spot check in case anything went wrong while Tracks lowered himself to the ground. The transition went fine. Ironhide then sat beside him. He tilted his head as a fire alarm siren went off. "Surprised it took this long," he grumbled. "I wonder if we can get out of here before someone comes at us with pitchforks. It is becoming more difficult to seem innocent."

"As long as...no one sees...me...like this," Tracks said, optics dimming.

"Or hears you, I take it?" Ironhide looked over at him. "I have no place to judge. Just believe me when I say you cannot worry about your outward wounds." He gestured to his own face. "You cannot let them stop you." Tracks darkened his optics further. Ironhide sighed, then patted the younger warrior's shoulder. "Ratchet can fix it. It was a worthwhile sacrifice. My first impression of humans was that they were noisy, fussing creatures who deserved their fate at their own hands. I thought we should have focused on taking care of our own. But Will, Bobby, and their team proved to me that they have just as much right to live and protect this universe as anyone else. Those who would fight beside us deserve _our_ protection, in turn."

Tracks nodded slowly then looked toward the overpass. "I should...not have...risked his life in...such a way."

"You will learn."

**To Be Continued**

_Additional Disclaimer: To anyone familiar with G Gundam, yes, Ironhide and Chromia performed the Transformer version of the "Bakunetsu Sekiha Love Love Tenkyoken Godo Fingah". XD_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: My thanks to lonegamer8 for a set of height numbers. ;) __Disclaimer: Several lines of dialogue have been borrowed from both the '86 animated movie and the '07 movie. Italicized, and I take no credit for writing them._

* * *

**Reunions - Part Nine**

Prowl assessed the battlefield and determined that each side was evenly matched. Astrotrain had yet to make a move other than drifting higher or lower than the Ark, remaining on the side closest to the moon. Despite being outnumbered his teammates were holding their own, as expected. Bluestreak aided via the ship's guns with perfect timing. Prowl was beginning to regret being so harsh with him, but for now there was no convincing him that Thundercracker had truly given up his Decepticon heritage. He kept waiting for the inevitable betrayal.

The Combaticons had made no move toward forming Bruticus. It made sense to keep their unit separate, giving them more maneuverability and covering a wider area. However, the longer the battle went on, the more Prowl felt like he was missing a piece. While he would never admit defeat, he could not ignore the possibility his team would lose. Even just adding Astrotrain into the fire fight would be their undoing. As he followed after Onslaught, shooting nonstop, he pondered the chances of cornering one of the Decepticons long enough to demand an explanation.

Onslaught turned suddenly. Prowl's speed brought him right to the Combaticon, but he immediately twisted to avoid being shot. Onslaught did not fire, instead grabbing Prowl's weapon arm. He hissed from the heat of the barrel, but drew Prowl in close and wrapped his other arm around the Autobot's neck, trapping him. Prowl attempted to free himself, at the same time throwing a scan out over the battlefield to see if anyone could aid him. He found that each of his warriors were similarly captured.

There was a great roaring sound of engines flaring to life. Yet it was not from Astrotrain. Prowl jerked his head far enough to see the glow coming from the back of the Ark as the ship broke from its stationary orbit. "No! Bluestreak, what are you doing?!"

A crackle came over the group comm frequency. "My apologies, but Bluestreak has retired from duty. This is the new captain, Skywarp. The Ark shall now proceed to its next destination."

Prowl struggled violently. Onslaught squeezed his weapon arm, cracking something. Prowl ignored the pain and internal alert. From elsewhere came another, louder _crack_ -- to his right. He looked to see that Inferno had freed himself from Vortex and Gutcruncher, and was flying full speed toward one of the side airlocks, cannon raised to blast right through the door to get in faster.

Ramjet flew to intercept him. Prowl shuttered his optics, knowing what would happen next. His processor raced to devise a way out of the situation, taking into account which Decepticons were holding who, and which individual strengths could be used against their respective captors. The speed of the Ark, the percentage of Skywarp's possible knowledge of the Ark's functions, the probability of Bluestreak still being alive.

The probability of Thundercracker helping them, betraying them, or assisting _neither_ side.

All this he weighed and judged in the space of the second it took for the most immovable Autobot to hit head-on with the most solidly-armored aerospace fighter in the Decepticon army.

Inferno lost.

Prowl sought for more factors. _Why had they not attacked in this manner from the start? They could have easily captured the Ark with these numbers. Was Thundercracker just a distraction? Was he a focal point for Skywarp to teleport to?_

Onslaught suddenly tightened his arm around Prowl's neck. "Calculating, Prowl? I am certain you are enjoying a conundrum such as this. Unfortunately, you cannot process the full spectrum of events. There is more occurring on that little organic planet that you Autobots thought you could run to, and you will never be able to process why. I advise you to remain still and observe."

"Are you going to use this opportunity to terminate us?" Prowl asked while trying to free his weapon arm. "You had chased us through eight systems before that storm in the Pandorae Nebula. I knew there was no certainty your ship was destroyed. Now you have us. With the Ark in your hands, we are of no use. Why not complete your function?!"

Onslaught chuckled. "Do you have a wish to be terminated? Are you unwilling to make another stand? You disappoint me, Prowl. I thought you might have been able to set up a better defense plan with the remaining scraps of your unit. What is it that occurred? Have you lost your morale?" Onslaught laughed as Prowl went completely still. "Ah, see. You Autobots have lost everything, your dream of Cybertron returned to its glory _crushed._ We Decepticons, however, are _not_ concerning ourselves with a _dead planet._ There is much more to the universe than a lost cause."

"How can you not have any qualms about abandoning the planet that gave you _life?_ You would not exist without Cybertron!"

_"I_ outlived it. It proved that its time was mortal! It was not a god, and neither was the Allspark. To most of the inhabitants of the universe _we_ are gods!"

Prowl seethed, murmuring, "How humble of you. Is that all you aspire to? I remember a different course, long ago..."

Without preamble Onslaught ignited a blade of searing light on his left wrist. He yanked it across Prowl's throat. "Enough of that." The Autobot instinctively thrashed, having the urge to grab the wound and suppress the damaged plates and cables, to halt the globs of mech fluid that drifted away. Onslaught kept Prowl's arms trapped. "Alas, not as long lasting as Megatron could have dealt, but you will not forget this moment, will you?" He turned slightly. "Look. The Ark is going to make its voyage in a timely manner."

Prowl tried to override the warnings from his neck servos and relays. He had survived worse wounds. But without a backup plan in motion he was susceptible to Onslaught's psychological tactics. What he saw made him start thrashing all over again. Sunlight gleamed off of the Ark's bow as the ship sailed out of the moon's shadow.

* * *

Optimus knew the jig was up. No one was going to miss a robot that was between forty and fifty feet tall. He had sent Ratchet to cordon off the area, siren as loud as it could go. He hoped it would act as a signal to the humans to stay away and that the situation was being handled by the proper authorities. He suddenly wished he hadn't let Bumblebee take a year's leave so he would have both another warrior and a human liaison on the scene. As it was, he didn't want to have either Bumblebee or Sam come racing into the hot zone right _that_ moment.

Fortunately, Menasor hadn't broken out any weaponry yet. He seemed content with smashing everything in sight: every pile of junk, every tree, every Autobot. So far, he had zero count on the Autobots, in part because everyone had withdrawn to the front of the base. One of the elevator entrances had been uncovered, but Broadcast was on it the nanosecond the security alert came through the line, sealing it with the secondary emergency door that was too thick for Menasor to punch through.

The Decepticon had switched to grabbing small piles of junk, crushing them into one solid mass between his hands, and flinging it at the Autobots. None of the improvised projectiles made it to their line since _those_ they could shoot at with results.

Arcee, standing in the middle to have clear aim with her bow, was running battle scenarios through her processor. She shared her opinions over the secure group line. "He is toying with us. Ratchet said they were after the key to the Ark. What does that _mean,_ Prime?"

"It has something to do with Perceptor. Ratchet did not give me all of the details," Optimus replied.

"Why didn't you _order_ him to tell you?" Arcee asked, taking out another flying lump of compacted car parts.

"Because I rarely _need_ to. He has his projects and I trust him with building anything he sees fit to make."

"Assuming Ratchet is correct and they want this key, what is Menasor's goal? Dirge has left the area, and now we are merely being inconvenienced. Menasor cannot reach the key -- or anything else for that matter -- with this tactic." Arcee lowered her bow and began peering carefully around.

Moonracer picked up on the other femme's search. "Are you thinking there is someone else with them who will try to sneak past while we are distracted?"

Huffer lifted one of the surviving projectiles that had made it close to them and stayed intact. "There is no way _except_ through us."

"Precisely," Arcee said. "Prime, we need to find a way to end this. This location could be surrounded by humans any time now and we cannot wait for Tracks, or Ironhide and Chromia to arrive."

Optimus gave her a sideways glance. "Do we have a choice? Ratchet and I are no match for a gestalt. If we can hold out long enough, Ironhide and Chromia would even the odds. The only way _is_ brute force due to their shielding."

Huffer "harumphed" and lobbed the junk projectile at Menasor's right leg. The Decepticon drew the leg back but it barely unbalanced him. "Get me twenty more of those and I might be able to do something about him. If I throw really fast."

Arcee looked Menasor over, scanning for weak spots. "Perhaps if we try distracting _them_ so that they will fight each other, we might accomplish something." She cast a half-smirk toward Huffer. "Who would like to start a round of provoke-the-Stunticon?"

* * *

Broadcast continued to monitor the goings-on outside using the backup equipment that was in the shielded back chamber. He had decided to make that his priority rather than grill Perceptor about the key. The scientist was doing his share by analyzing the data on the Stunticons that Ratchet had sent him. Broadcast was currently focused on the outer perimeter, tracking Ratchet's progress. The medic had not one, but five holographic humans in various law uniforms, waving back those in the neighborhood who had become curious enough to try to find out what the noise was. Ratchet kept convincing people that it was only a test of some special effects for a movie that _might_ be filmed in the town -- providing that the residents respected this private test. It _seemed_ to be working. Broadcast figured it was only a matter of time before some clever teenager found a way to sneak in.

Or some helicopters or small planes flew over.

"Heads up at eleven o'clock," he warned the bots outside, "Sounds like a plane is going to do a fly-by to check things out." He amended the mistake he had made with Dirge and Motormaster, and searched the Web for recordings of different planes to confirm if it was the genuine article. Out loud, he exclaimed, "What the ...?!"

Perceptor stared at him. "May I inquire as to the meaning of that epithet?"

Broadcast gave him a sheepish look. "I don't really know, but the humans use it as an exclamation of extreme confusion. Or outrage. It just seemed fittin'."

"What is the cause for your confusion and/or outrage?"

"Accordin' to the 'Net, the plane I'm hearin' is way too old to be operational. Humans had a couple of Great Wars themselves, an' this is one'a their air fighters, but it's decades obsolete. My surprise is that it's operational _and_ about to buzz our base!"

Perceptor became thoughtful and also accessed the Internet. Broadcast switched back to the group line. "I don't know what it's about, but you might see an A-20 Havoc any second now." He sent an image to them all to help visualize. "I'm not gettin' any Cybertron readin's from it, so it might be some crazy human instead'a another 'Con. Be careful, anyway."

"I see it," Ratchet commed. "This will either make my words more convincing, or undo my progress. Humans defy logic and are too nosy for their own good."

Outside, Arcee had targeted the plane just in case it turned out to be a Decepticon trick. The holes in the craft's nose began to spew bullets toward Menasor's head. The Decepticon roared and clutched at the protrusions on either side. Arcee saw smoke rising and then picked up on the minute impact points. "This appears improbable, but he is susceptible to the human machine's weapons. Perhaps their projectiles are too small, and do not register to their shielding like our weapons do."

"Let's hope he stays on our side," Broadcast replied over the line. "I'll try to make contact with the pilot." He began to look up the frequencies the old plane could receive when something else caught his attention. "Man, if I hear one more weird sound today I think I'm gonna blow a circuit." He tilted his head, slowly turning away from the console.

"Would the equipment not be better suited to amplifying this sound in order for you to locate its source more accurately?" Perceptor peered over, wondering why Broadcast was staring hard at him, then turned as he realized the comms officer was focused on the wall several feet behind him.

The antennae array on Broadcast's head raised, pointing toward the wall. "You hear that?"

Perceptor increased his audio input strength. "If I could be enlightened as to what category _'that'_ could be placed into?"

"It's a--" Broadcast moved closer to the wall. "A--" He went up to the wall and touched his antennae array to it. "A...drill? Yeah. Sounds like a drill. But there ain't _nothin'_ that's supposed to be strong enough to cut through _these_ walls."

"I conclude that you are discerning their effort to dig through the compacted soil and stone located outside of the wall. They will be thwarted when they arrive at the wall itself."

"Question is, who's _they_ an' where did they start diggin' from? How'd we miss 'em? How'd _I_ miss 'em?!" Broadcast stepped back, feeling over the tips of his antennae with one hand. He paused. "It stopped. Didn't sound like they were that close to the wall yet. I'd say the misdirection field confused 'em, but it shoulda kept 'em from gettin' this close in the first place."

Just before Perceptor could make a reply, Broadcast raised a hand for silence. His antennae twitched and he looked up at a ceiling vent, mumbling, "This just ain't our day."

The vent cover exploded off with a gray and brown form following after. Broadcast dove aside to avoid being crushed, but then his foot caught on something; or rather, _by_ something. He was lifted into the air where he was able to get an upside-down view of the invader -- as it snapped at his face.

Broadcast combined human epithets. Perceptor formed up his cannon but as he took aim, the six-legged creature swung Broadcast into the line of fire. Its four eyes lit up and it let out a series of low screeches that sounded like it was chuckling. It had caught the comms officer in a three-pronged pincher and now waved the tip of its multi-bladed tail at Broadcast, threatening to skewer him. It pointed at Perceptor with its other pincher. The scientist lowered his cannon and began to back up. The creature screeched angrily, pointing again. Perceptor froze.

Broadcast crossed his arms, glaring at his captor. "They coulda at least reprogrammed you to speak an actual language. I mean, even _I_ can translate the sonar words of the Au'Forthririell, but _you_ ain't even tryin', Scorpy."

The metal scorpion ignored him, keeping his other pincher leveled on Perceptor, who was calculating the time it took to fully charge his weapon, his own foot speed, and the distance between himself and Scorponok's right side versus the distance between Broadcast and the right side, with how long it would take the Decepticon to turn in that direction. "What is it that you want, villain?!" Perceptor demanded. "We have nothing of value to you!"

The lower section of Scorponok's face separated and moved in indication of a mouth, but no words came out.

"You're takin' too long to answer." Broadcast smirked. Rhythm and Blues sprang from his back, transforming on the way. Blues grabbed the strut they had been attached to while Rhythm climbed up to Broadcast's captured foot and began tugging on the pinchers. When he did not have immediate success, Blues flipped upward to help him.

Scorponok made an annoyed sound and thrust his tail forward. Broadcast swung himself up out of the way. "Now!"

Perceptor fired on the Decepticon. Scorponok shielded his eyes with his extra plating, but the blast threw him backward. Broadcast went flying with him. With his concentration broken, Rhythm and Blues lost their holds. The comm officer twisted so that when Scorponok hit the wall, his free foot slammed against the Decepticon's face. Broadcast had hoped the move would convince his captor to let go, but instead it encouraged the dangerous tail to take a stab at him. Broadcast took a chance and grabbed the tip. When it yanked upward, Broadcast was pulled free of the pincher.

_"All right!"_ he cried as he let go and turned in the air, landing clear of the scorpion. Rhythm and Blues scrambled toward their keeper and took their place on his back again. _"Cover your receptors, Perceptor!"_ Broadcast planted his feet and raised his arms, the back of his forearms facing Scorponok. His hands clenched tight while mechanisms formed up into his speakers. The strut holding Rhythm and Blues split and came forward under his arms. _"Look out an' shout, OW!"_ Rock music issued forth, supplemented by a concussive wave of subharmonics.

Scorponok screeched in annoyance again and took a swing at the smaller mech with his tail. Broadcast danced out of reach, calling to Perceptor, "I forgot he used to run with Blackout. No wonder he's so addled, after havin' to deal with Mister EMP Blast himself." The tail stabbed down again, barely missing. Broadcast grabbed the end and hung on as Scorponok swung it around to dislodge him. Eventually the scorpion gave up and brought Broadcast level with his head, screeching into his face. The comms officer smirked. "Now don't you know better than that? Like any sound is gonna bother _me."_

Rhythm and Blues transformed again and hopped onto Scorponok's neck, grabbing the armor that would shield his optics. The LED screen on Broadcast's chest showed an increase in volume, edging up to one hundred decibels. Then the screen went blank, only to flash a multitude of colors at a blinding brightness a second later. Scorponok hissed and bucked, trying to throw off Rhythm and Blues.

A voice that was more like air passing through vents than an actual vocal processor rasped, "Wretched Autobot!"

"He speaks!" Broadcast proclaimed in a taunting tone. "Next thing you know he'll--"

He was thrown into the wall, immediately followed by Rhythm and Blues as Scorponok transformed to robot mode. While he looked like a column with sharp sickles sticking out in front and the pinchers appearing top-heavy, he was still agile. He darted toward Perceptor and had the scientist's arms pinned before he could fire a shot. Perceptor struggled to get his secondary weapon formed from his shoulder, but Scorponok scurried around him like a centipede, pushing down plating that tried to move. He latched onto Perceptor's head and began to pull at the armor in the back and along the right side, on down to his shoulder and backside. "Remove yourself from my person!" Perceptor cried, grabbing at the Decepticon and tugging at the stabbing legs, to no avail.

Scorponok finally pried enough plates loose to get to the inner housing. He ripped out cables, wires, and various hardware, causing Perceptor to spasm. Then Scorponok removed a large microchip in the shape of the Autobot emblem. The Decepticon screeched with glee and leaped off of the sparking scientist. Perceptor crashed to the ground, unmoving. Scorponok grabbed onto the wall and climbed up to another vent. Broadcast had regained his feet just as the Decepticon slithered inside.

The comms officer directed Rhythm and Blues over, clasping his hands palms upward in front of him to give them each a boost upward. They weren't strong enough to pull him up, but they might be able to detain Scorponok before he escaped. Broadcast touched his antennae array to the wall, trying to track and direct what he could not see.

That had not been just any old chip Scorponok had stolen from Perceptor.

* * *

It truly did look like a scene out of a movie. Menasor was throwing his arms through the air trying to catch the plane that kept avoiding his attempts. The Autobots and two humans were harrying him with taunts and little guns and returning the favor of thrown junk. The distractions were aggravating the individual Stunticons to the point where Menasor began talking to himself out loud -- in separate vocal tones.

Powerglide had not transformed when he took a respite earlier, landing to let Lennox and Banachek out. The men had told Optimus there was an explanation, but obviously had to wait. They had brought several helpful weapons with them, and the plan was to distract Menasor enough to weaken his shielding so a few Sabot rounds could be fired. That assault would likely lead to the Stunticons separating, and the Autobots were prepared to jump on the individuals and knock them out fast.

Banachek retreated to the overhang of the garage doorway, happily laying waste to Breakdown's finish. Lennox was to his right, looking up in search of a good opening around Menasor's arms. He had seen that a combined Cybertronian didn't have the same armor arrangement as a single mech so his preferred tactic was moot.

He whirled to the right when he heard a clatter and saw a large vent cover go bouncing across the grass, followed by someone calling out, _"Come here, Decepticon punk!"_

"Jazz?" Will whispered. He slipped toward the side wall, leaning out slowly to make sure it wasn't a trap. He saw Scorponok being assaulted by two identical mechs that couldn't have been even half of Lennox's height. They shared a little resemblance to Jazz in looks, and shared more in courage.

Will stepped clear of the wall and strode forward. "Mind if I have a word with this one, boys?" With dark visors over their optics he couldn't tell if they even looked at him, but they jumped clear fast enough. "Hey, Scorponok!" Will leveled his Sabot launcher as the Decepticon turned. "This is for Fig and Donnelly!!"

There was no doubting Scorponok's status this time as the rounds slammed home.

One of the miniature mechs went diving into the conflagration. Will watched, shocked. "Wait, no!" He set down the launcher and ran to see what had caused the small Autobot to risk such a thing. The other one had simply collapsed on the dirt under the vent. Lennox waved away the smoke, yet before he came within four feet of the shrapnel that was Scorponok, the minimech emerged -- armor hot from the intense heat but intact and triumphantly holding up something. Lennox gazed at the blackening Autobot emblem, his stomach twisting at a possible misjudgment.

* * *

Aboard the Ark, Skywarp stared in disbelief at a message on the main monitor. "No! They would never--!!" He slammed his fists on the console. "Why? WHY!" He spun and kicked the offline Bluestreak in the side. "Idiots!" He opened a commline to Onslaught. "The mission is a failure. The signal from the key went down. This piece of scrap is worthless!"

"Not completely. It is still useful to _them._ We must do something about that."

"Heheheh. Affirmative."

Onslaught bellowed his next order over the entire unit's line. "Astrotrain! Full throttle! Push that floating rust barge toward its _new_ next destination!"

Not included in the comm, Prowl only had Onslaught's body language to go by to tell that something was going on. The Combaticon leader released him long enough to thrust one arm to the right of the moon. The whine of engines other than the Ark's started up. Astrotrain was on the move.

Skywarp abruptly appeared beside Onslaught, grumbling, "So long, traitor."

Prowl watched the Ark move fully out of the moon's shadow and begin to turn to go around the planetoid. Astrotrain let it pass him, then he followed, ramming it. Prowl traced the possible trajectories. They hadn't aimed it toward the moon. Astrotrain rammed it again. It soon cleared the moon and then turned again. Astrotrain switched to pushing. Past the moon.

Prowl knew what lay beyond the moon. "No!" He redoubled his efforts to escape. How he wished Inferno was conscious.

* * *

The minimech collapsed at Lennox's feet, the emblem tumbling from its hand. Will made to catch it, but fumbled when it burned his fingers. He took off the flight jacket borrowed from Banachek and scooped it up. The Autobot symbol burned into the leather but didn't go through far enough to burn him again. He turned it over and tried to inspect it without leaning too close. Charred wires stuck out from the back and empty I/O ports were on its side edges, leading him to conclude it had been removed from inside something. He shifted it a little more. In the process it seemed one of the wires found a hole in the jacket because he felt a tiny jolt.

For a split second he thought he saw a blue sheen flush across the emblem's surface. Then infinitesimal movements began to occur. Will risked lifting it closer to his face. Ever so tiny, but still visible panels were moving. The blackened ones disappeared, replaced by gleaming red ones.

A faint sound beyond where he stood reached his ears. He jerked his head up, realizing he had gotten caught up in watching the amazing thing in his hands. He had completely let his guard down. There was no one around except the two small, unmoving Autobots. Yet he found that he could not resist watching the emblem until it finished regenerating itself. Throughout the process the faint sound repeated several times.

_"...'Til all are one..."_

**To Be Continued**


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: The questions raised in the previous chapter are partially answered here. This chapter is dedicated to koh4711, particularly for a certain scene involving certain humans. XD XD

* * *

**Reunions - Part Ten**

Rumble caught on to Trailbreaker's trap a half second before the force field reversed and closed around him. By then the area was surrounded by police, fire fighters, and numerous members of the local National Guard. More were en route with the known effective weaponry.

Keller had convinced them to not target Trailbreaker. He stayed by the Autobot to prove a point -- one, that he was safe, and two, that humans and Autobots should fight together against a common foe. Not that Keller was able to do much to damage Rumble, but it was the appearance that counted. What America would see would be a giant alien defending one of the VIPs of the government. When it was over -- and it would be very shortly -- was going to be another matter.

The Decepticon was doing his best to rupture the entire street. One water main had already flooded part of the road, small lakes forming where the concrete had been broken up. Keller prayed that the gas lines would hold out and that Trailbreaker's forcefield would do the job of keeping Rumble contained _and_ halt the damage. The Autobot was now directing the field to form under the pile drivers. The continuing unblocked vibrations were keeping it from engulfing the Decepticon completely, and Rumble knew it. Despite an increasing amount of steam from his shoulder vents he kept pounding at the ground to disrupt the forcefield.

Trailbreaker frowned. He had the presence of mind to speak calmly, falling in with appearance. "I _might_ be able to hold out if he overloads his heat sinks, but I can't guarantee it."

"My boys are ready to take up the fight," Keller called, signaling the National Guard to prepare themselves.

It was then that he saw a small metal figure slip out of the back of Rumble's left foot and disappear into one of the holes in the street. He couldn't get a real good look at it because Rumble's pile drivers went into overdrive. Trailbreaker could see the metal heating and the vents were clearly no longer keeping up with the Decepticon's systems. "Get down!!" he shouted, waving a hand horizontally at the emergency teams. They obeyed, taking shelter where it was available.

The amount of yellow energy flowing across the shield increased, nearly obscuring Rumble's form. What wasn't covered by yellow abruptly became bright white light. The sound was only slightly muffled while the vibration of the explosion was felt through the ground. Trailbreaker held the shield for several more minutes to be sure of no additional detonations. He slowly brought it down once he saw that there weren't any pieces left that could be big enough to provide another explosion. The concrete had melted, making the street look like it had come from Mercury.

Trailbreaker dropped to one knee, hands falling to the ground, his own intakes working to bring in cooler air. Keller gestured to a nearby policeman who held a megaphone. "May I?" He held his hand out and the policeman gave him the megaphone. "Thank you." He cleared his throat as he moved to where the most people could see him. He felt the calm that his station dictated but at the same time his heart was pounding in fear of the choice he had been forced to make. "Ladies and gentlemen -- people of America and the world. May I introduce Trailbreaker. His is an Autobot, part of a race of intelligent robotic organisms. He and his allies have taken refuge on Earth. Trailbreaker has been under my personal supervision and is serving as ambassador here in Washington D.C. for the Autobots. They have chosen to reside in the United States because this is where they first made contact with humans. As you witnessed, they are here to protect us. The Autobots will not harm humans and are educated in working within our planet's environment."

Keller knew he did not have to worry about the crowd that was there in person. It was everyone else, watching the amateur videos he knew were being shot that moment, and the inevitable tide of professional media that would probably be on the scene soon enough. He prayed that the rest of the government was mobilizing to help with the situation. Now if he could only choose the best explanation for the Decepticons that would not cause panic. Or rather, the _least_ amount of panic.

"Due to the events you have just seen, I will prepare a full explanation of how the Autobots came to be here. For the time being it would be appreciated if you would respect the fact that these allies have suffered a great loss, and have come here in need of our understanding."

Trailbreaker bowed his head slowly and hoped he would not undermine Keller's efforts by saying something. In the gentlest tone he could process, he said, "As Defense Secretary Keller said, we appreciate the generosity of all of you and we also appreciate your understanding. The Autobots have no wish to disturb you, we merely intend to rest and recover." He decided it would be better to remain on his knees to appear as non-threatening as possible.

As Keller had predicted, a group of reporters arrived and overwhelmed the police, swarming around him. Immediately one woman called out, "Mister Secretary! What do you have to say about the incident in East Oakland?"

Keller went cold. He managed to keep it out of his voice. "I have no further comments until the official statement. Please return to the side. We need to clean up here so the residents can return to their homes and businesses."

* * *

Dinner had become a very tense event at the Witwicky household. Only Judy's fast reflexes saved her husband's plate from hitting the floor. Even then, she held the plate and continued to stare at the television screen. Sam had crept in from the kitchen, the portable phone in his hand. "M-Mikaela?" he stuttered into the receiver, "If you can, turn on channel four _right now."_

He spun as he heard a noise from the back window. Bumblebee had crawled under the patio roof and was staring forlornly at the newscast from D.C.. He uttered a sigh that ended in a disappointed whimper.

"I know, Bumblebee," Judy called sympathetically. "This _is_ a set back. Do you want a hug?"

_"Mom..."_ Sam buried his face in his arm.

Bumblebee, having become used to the woman's behavior, replied politely, "Perhaps later, Mrs Witwicky. I must contact Optimus to find out what I should do."

She smiled brightly toward the window and waved one hand downward. "I keep telling you, call me Judy! It's fine!"

"Sorry, Judy," the Autobot apologized. "Protocols, and all."

"You are always such a polite young man! Why must those rotten Decepticons keep being pests?!"

Bumblebee decided to not correct her on the comment of him being 'young', and tuned her out as he opened a connection to Autobase. Static filled the line. He sighed and opened a connection directly to Optimus.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Bumblebee -- and Optimus -- the communications hub was being unintentionally disrupted by Broadcast. He had pushed his sensors to the limit directing Rhythm and Blues without being in the same place as them, keeping them on target while focusing on the energy signature he had been able to tag as Scorponok's. Scorponok was created to remain below the radar, so Broadcast had been surprised, but glad, even stretched to the limit as he was. Then something had overwhelmed him and the next thing he knew, he was feeling a strange surge of energy from Rhythm. He vaguely wondered if the minimech was holding the key, which might have supplied the surge.

He had to find out. He groggily pushed himself off the floor. He had to manually lower his antennae array into place against his head. As he did so he turned and saw Perceptor still lying immobile several feet away. Broadcast dashed over, pulling one of the cables from the back of his head. He gently prodded around the back of Perceptor's head to find an intact I/O port. He found one after another few seconds and plugged into it, hoping the automatic defense programming had gone into effect and locked up important databases. He sighed with relief when he was able to access Perceptor's personal comm frequency. He quickly contacted Ratchet. "Hate to tell ya, but this room ain't as secure as we'd hoped. Scorponok got in an' trashed Perceptor's noggin to get the key. I think I got it back -- through Rhythm -- but Perceptor's in stasis lock right now. Any news topside that could mean you can help the poor guy?"

"Let me get back to you on that," Ratchet replied. "Patch into the media lines and see if anyone is making our situation into the evening news."

Broadcast did so, and uttered a discordant noise when he picked up what _was_ on the news at that moment. "Not us, but there's a situation in D.C.. Trailbreaker's cover was blown an' John Keller is currently tryin' to get the media off his back. I wouldn't want to be in his position right now."

"Better than if the situation was reversed. I would prefer to not have the death of a government official on our hands, especially one willing to advocate in our favor."

"Well, then, tell me what's goin' on out there. I gotta clear up my connections to the external cameras." Having found that the base's hub was suffering with him, Broadcast hurried to wipe the lines of interference. He found a delayed notice that Bumblebee tried to comm in. "Look who's watchin' TV." Broadcast chuckled. It was noted that Bumblebee had gone on to contact Prime.

"We have a new arrival who helped turn the tide. Do you remember Powerglide from covert ops?"

"Sure do."

"He came to Earth before we or Starscream's party did. He went into hiding and is a World War II veteran."

"Fancy that. Why didn't he signal us?"

"I have not had a chance to ask. He dropped off Will and Tom Banachek then went right back into the fray. We--" He cut himself off. "Broadcast," he continued sharply, "Get those external cameras up _now_ and make sure the tower ones are set to orbital range. Focus on coordinates two-eight-one apex forty-seven. And don't tell me it is what I think it is."

"Ratch, we're runnin' outta _'the other shoe'_s to drop, as the humans say."

"We can borrow some from the Decepticons. They like multi-legged forms."

"Har-har. Yeah, well, they're the ones droppin' 'em, ain't they?" Broadcast tapped into the camera monitoring system and adjusted the uppermost cameras to the specified angle. His LED screen flashed red. "Um, Ratchet..." He patched the images through to the medic. "Tell me that ain't what I think it is..."

"Is there an echo in here? Unfortunately for both of us -- and many, many others -- it is."

"You sure?" Broadcast asked hopefully. "I mean, maybe it's a weather balloon."

"I helped Wheeljack design it, so yes, I am sure."

"I'm glad he ain't here to see another creation go up in flames."

_"Down_ in flames, rather."

"That, too. I'm gonna try to get Trailbreaker on the horn. I think the Prez is gonna want a head's up on this."

Ratchet's only response was a weary sigh.

* * *

Outside, Motormaster let out a roar that shook the base's outer walls. He batted Powerglide out of the air, the old plane spiraling toward the ground but able to pull out of it and make a rough landing. Huffer ran over to catch the plane by the nose and help him stop.

Meanwhile, Menasor turned into a flurry of metal. Two cars dropped off the frame followed by the two others, and before long the car carrier was kicking up enough dirt to block them from view. When it settled, the five Decepticons were gone. "Arcee," Optimus called, "see if you can follow them. Bumblebee is en route to back you up. Track them but do not engage. Ratchet, see to Perceptor and Broadcast." Ratchet nodded, knowing the comms officer had reported everything to Prime. "The rest of you, roll out. We're headed north. I only hope we can get there in time." He paused, turning to Powerglide.

The smaller mech saluted. "As much as I'm not ready to take up the badge again, there is no doubt in my processor that I must aid you."

Banachek calmly strolled over. Optimus looked down at him questioningly. "He's my ride. I'm comin', too." Prime nodded.

Arcee transformed and sped off while Optimus led the others to the junkyard's north gate. Ratchet quickly transformed and zipped in front to act as escort since there was still the concern about humans trying to watch. The street turned out to be empty -- it was likely everyone had returned home once news of the D.C. incident spread, and such things always spread fast. Ratchet pulled over and silently wished everyone luck. He would need some himself, for he had the responsibility of fixing the only option for stopping the tragedy soon to come.

He pulled up to the garage just as Lennox came around the corner, Rhythm slung over his back and Blues cradled in his arms with a blinking object balanced on the minimech's lower torso. Ratchet opened his rear door. "Put them both inside, quickly." A set of forceps reached from the left side to pluck the Autobot emblem off of Blues, other tools descending from the ceiling carrying various wires and some sporting sparking ends that were pressed to the edges of the emblem.

Lennox shut the door and dashed to the passenger side. "Hurry," he whispered as he belted in.

"Hmm?" Ratchet drove into the garage and sped down the ramp. He continued his work in the back without pause. "Did you touch it, William?"

"Not directly."

"But you held it."

"Yes."

"So you know."

"I...can't say. What _is_ it, Ratchet?"

"It is the key to the Ark, which is the space ship that our team used to traverse outer space. This key is not like a car key. The Ark can run without it, which is why we have used the ship as a way station. The Ark contains the collected data of our fleet -- all information on planets, aliens races, and our own outposts that every ship inputs becomes part of the Ark's database. It has vast storage and receiving capabilities. With it, the Decepticons would know every existing Autobot post, the races allied with us, and planets with potential for resource mining. As it appears to me, they took hold of the Ark and then tried to get the key. A failed attempt would mean we would have absolutely impenetrable guard over the key against further attempts, rendering the Ark useless to them. I assume the key was damaged when you found it."

Will started to gesture toward the back, but hit his hand on the roof and seemed to lose his focus for a moment. "O-One of the little guys went to get it from Scorponok after I nailed him. He dropped it, and it looked totally cooked, but a few seconds after I picked it up it started to fix itself."

"Hmm...The Ark would react to the key going offline. The Decepticons might have only caught that part, and gave up right away. So, they have knocked the ship out of its stationary orbit and have sent it toward Earth."

That snapped Lennox out of his trance. "WHAT? When did _that_ happen?!"

"I am partially tuned to the ship's proximity, which did not extend to Earth from the moon, but when it suddenly entered the range, I thought I had a glitch, but then our cameras confirmed it."

Lennox swallowed uncomfortably. "Big guys, big ship. Are we talking a nuclear winter here?"

"No. The ship is in its condensed form -- well, did you not expect our transports to transform as well? We had whole cities that transformed on Cybertron. The ship will hit with the force of a large meteor unless we can gain control of it, or at least adjust its trajectory."

Will clutched his head, overwhelmed and yet still trying to think of a strategy. When Ratchet stopped at an elevator, Lennox was quick to jump out. "Remove the two small ones, please. You will have to carry them again." With Rhythm resting over Will's shoulder and Blues in his arms again, Ratchet began to transform, keeping the extended forceps holding the key out of the way of his change until he stood upright. By that point the forceps were sticking over his shoulder. He carefully grasped the emblem. The forceps folded away behind him. He immediately grunted, the key sliding from his fingers. Lennox thought it would fall, but it stuck to Ratchet's palm, seeming to burrow into it. Will grimaced.

"Why didn't it do that to the little guy here who picked it up? Or to Scorponok?"

They boarded the elevator as Ratchet explained, "It is tuned to Autobot signatures. Otherwise..." He winced. "It seeks out the living energy of a spark. These two do not have sparks. It was formerly installed in a mech who was modified to support its symbiotic nature."

The elevator reached the bottom and Ratchet ran out, not waiting for Lennox. The medic came into the back chamber with tools extending. Broadcast dove out of the way. "He's still stable, doc, but I need a nap." Ratchet didn't reply, already sorting and wielding inside Perceptor's head. "Oh, hey!" Broadcast called as Lennox walked in. "You got my buds. Thanks!"

Will kept clear of Ratchet as he found a spot to put the minimechs down. Broadcast stood over Blues for a moment, then moved to Rhythm once he was on the ground. He uttered a thoughtful, "Hmm..." Will remained crouched as he stared at Broadcast, a new level of fascination coming over him. He had only seen the diagrams of Frenzy after the Decepticon had been disposed of, and while Broadcast was reminiscent of the design, he was much more...musical-looking. The form was appropriate, whereas Frenzy had only been freaky.

"You must be Will," Broadcast suddenly said, grinning at him. "Nice to meetcha. I'm Broadcast, these're Rhythm an' Blues. Seriously, thanks for bringin' 'em in for me. I can't get my link to 'em back up or else I'd give you a proper introduction."

"No worries there," Lennox said, casting a glance at Ratchet. "I know we have bigger problems."

Broadcast shrugged. "At least the Stunticons took off so we could get goin' on the ish. Unless they show up again where the Ark's gonna hit."

Will braced one hand on the floor. "You seem...calm about it."

Broadcast slung an arm around Lennox's shoulders. "After ev'rythin' that's happened in the last forty-eight hours, I learned I gotta keep my head. I'm now lookin' at it this way: Prime's got a team mobilized. My job's to make sure signals get where they're supposed to. When I'm needed, I'll step up. Till then, nothin' much I can do except stay outta Ratchet's way. Besides, he's got our backs."

"No pressure," the medic muttered. Will blinked at the number of repair tools Ratchet had stored in his arms, several darting in and out of Perceptor's head at once. "Broadcast, I need to borrow Blues. Make sure he is completely shut down."

The comms officer did so and then carried Blues over, following Ratchet's instructions. Lennox watched Rhythm in the meantime.

A more subdued Broadcast came back over several minutes later. Will raised his head, pointing with his chin toward Perceptor and asked quietly, "I haven't met him before, either. Obviously a proper introduction must wait again, but could you fill me in?"

"That there's the greatest scientific mind among the Autobots, Perceptor. Master of long-winded -- I mean, _detailed_ -- explanations an' wielder of every big word in the galaxy. The perfect guy to hold the key. Still don't know how the 'Cons figured it out, since even _I_ didn't know he had it, an' I was his team leader before we arrived here. Ratchet's l'il secret."

"Broadcast, perhaps you should go with William to the repair bay and start_looking_ for a possible explanation for how the Decepticons found out. If my medical ward is bugged, I want to know about it _yesterday."_

"As long as you don't need us, chief, we'll be glad to look." Broadcast eyed Blues, then Rhythm.

"The greater need is our security leak. Go, but keep your lines open. We never know what will happen next."

"Personally, I'd like if Chromia an' Ironhide checked in. Much as it would suck to lose the ship, I bet they could blast it outta the sky before it became a threat." Broadcast started for the exit but stopped when he realized Will was laughing. Ratchet gave the human an odd look, yet not pausing his work.

"Sorry. I didn't expect you to speak like that." Will hastily made for the door and sighed when he reached it. "I needed that. C'mon, let's get hunting."

Ratchet was glad they had left in a timely manner so they wouldn't have to witness the last of his repair work. He brought out the forceps again and also a laser scalpel. He held up the palm with the key and grasped the edge with the forceps and began to pull. He braced himself then used the scalpel to slice beneath it, cutting into his own hand. The key did not appreciate being severed from a live spark feed. _"Aagghhh!"_

Ratchet gasped when it finally came free, watching as the plating from his hand that was attached to it turned dull and crumbled away as the key absorbed its nanotech. He hastily inserted it back in its balanced place within Perceptor's head. A few more wire replacements and a patch of armor taken from Blues later, Perceptor was whole and online again.

"Ratchet! The key! I...I am sorry. I could not guard it as I should have."

"You can apologize later," the medic said while welding on his own hand. "Right now I need you to drive."

"But I cannot fit--"

_"The Ark._ I need you to drive the Ark. From here if possible, and if not, we need to grab Broadcast and run. The ship is coming down and while I know we can't stop it, we could at least let it crash where it won't kill anything."

Perceptor got to his feet and headed for the door. "I must argue against that possibility. There are over a billion species on this planet and every portion of it contains an ecosystem with some form of life."

Ratchet shot him a disparaging look. "You are dashing my hopes of sparing us more criticism than we have already accumulated." He stood, retracting all of his tools, and ushered the scientist into the hallway toward the elevator. "Start thinking of going _west_ and we will proceed from there."

"Do we know its trajectory?"

"Too close to land for comfort. I would prefer that it go down in the ocean, both to spare the humans and the ship. Without it, we are completely stranded here and also lose one of our extremely few remaining resources. Better if we have to salvage part of it than have all of it decimate the Mid-West." They boarded the elevator. Ratchet impatiently tapped his uninjured hand against his arm. As soon as the doors opened he ran out and transformed. "Hop on."

Perceptor hesitated, then took hold of the rescue vehicle's roof rack and braced his feet on the back bumper. Ratchet sped off as fast as his engine allowed. He turned on his siren to let Broadcast and Lennox know he was coming.

They were waiting when Ratchet pulled up and stopped just long enough for them to get in. Broadcast held something small and wiggling between two fingers. He slid across the front seat to sit behind the wheel. "Found your bug. Literally." A panel opened in the dashboard and a tray slid forward with a small container on it. Lennox opened it and held it out for Broadcast to drop the mechanical insect inside.

"Analysis?" Ratchet queried.

"Didn't have time for a complete scan, but I know it's been sendin' signals out. I neutralized it."

"Good. Hang on to that container. I won't risk storing it inside myself." He exited the garage and skidded slightly as he turned toward the north gate and commed, "Do you have a connection yet, Perceptor?"

The scientist's answer came through the radio. "My unconventional position is making it difficult to concentrate."

"You do not have a choice!"

The others went still, shocked by the vehemence in Ratchet's voice. The rescue vehicle left the junkyard, turning on his lights and siren as if by reflex. Seeing as the giant robot clinging to the back of the vehicle would draw attention enough, the siren would at least make potential rubberneckers pull over and stop first.

Will finally dared to break the silence. "Ratchet, are you okay?"

"No, I am not. This is my fault. I was the one who suggested we leave the Ark partially functional. I was the one who decided we should take the key with us instead of hiding it elsewhere. I chose Jazz as the best candidate to carry it, then Perceptor, and both had the option to decline."

_"Jazz_ had it before?" Lennox exclaimed, realizing a possible reason for why he had thought he had heard the fallen mech's voice.

"Given his love of new cultures, he was an excellent conduit for gathering information for the Ark's database. I...could almost feel the key's grief when I removed it from him. With Perceptor there was no hurry to find a form to blend in, and I had hoped to build up redundant defenses in him before he took a disguise. But I did not have enough time. When the key was safely installed, I chose to work on Rhythm and Blues instead. William, they were constructed from what was left of Jazz."

"I see," Lennox murmured.

Ratchet continued, "I feel I have made a grave miscalculation that could be terribly costly."

Broadcast let out a snort. "You wanna talk responsibility? How do you think I feel 'bout losin' track of 'Latch? I was his team leader, _an'_ he saved my life. I shoulda said somethin' as soon as I found out he was goin' out alone. But I can't go back an' undo it, so all I can do is make sure things are okay here when he gets back. Now let's go take care of that ship, then go find 'im!"

"Right," Ratchet agreed with determination. "Find us a good radio tower, Broadcast. We are going to need a boost."

**To Be Continued**


	11. Chapter 11

**Reunions - Part Eleven**

The Stunticons had split up after leaving the junkyard. So far Arcee had located Dead End and kept tabs on him via radar while she followed Motormaster, who was easiest to track due to the noise of his empty carrier. She was about to veer away to find Breakdown when a yellow car turned onto the street and started to follow her. The black stripes over its hood and roof reassured her. She opened a private line that would either prove her right or, at worse, bounce back unheard from a regular vehicle. "It's about time you showed up!"

"My apologies," Bumblebee replied. "I had to sneak away before Sam could try to come along."

"Your voice is...different."

"Is it? Ah, that's right, we have not talked since you arrived. My vocal processor needs a little more time to heal. Ratchet said it should be correctly tuned within the year."

"That is good. I did not mean it sounded _bad._ Merely different."

"I figured. I'm sorry I haven't come by the base."

"Do not worry. But I will ask a favor."

"Yes?"

"Find Wildrider for me. I have tags on Dead End and I think I just found Breakdown. Obviously Motormaster is ahead. I believe they are going to leave town and may not engage us, but keep a safe distance just in case."

"Affirmative." Bumblebee took a left and kept the line open as he wound through the streets. "I saw the news of the incident in D.C. and Optimus told me about the Stunticons. What else have I missed?"

"Chromia, Ironhide, and Tracks are in East Oakland and we are waiting to hear from Rattlelatch, who is somewhere in the Mojave. We lost contact with him but the Stunticons showed up before we could locate him. There is a group of bots on the Ark who reported an attack by more Decepticons."

"Is there a front they _haven't_ covered?"

"Assuming that Chromia's team and Rattlelatch were attacked, I would say _no._ It is unclear how they gained information on our whereabouts. I do know that we need to find out where _they_ have been hiding."

"Agreed. And I have found Drag Strip. No sign of Wildrider yet."

"Keep looking. He has to be _somewhere."_

"Do you think they will leave the state?"

"I think they will rendezvous somewhere to regroup. They would be able to travel faster loaded on the carrier."

"Should we follow them all the way or get a general idea where they are going?"

"Unless you have an idea on how to stop a falling Ark, I say we get an exact location."

"Oh my."

* * *

Once again Lennox aided the Autobots, convincing the owners of WATP to allow access to their airwaves, pointing out the incident in D.C. and Keller's support of the Autobots. They agreed and could only stand back and stare as Broadcast worked his magic with the studio equipment. The station went off the air with a friendly message.

Ratchet and Perceptor waited at the back of the building, the medic looking around, beyond tense. He expected nosybodies to arrive anytime and interfere with their efforts to _save_ said bodies. He was also waiting for another Decepticon to come crawling out of the underbrush at any second.

Perceptor tapped Ratchet's arm. Ratchet whirled, optics bright. The scientist jerked back, then lowered his hand to the medic's shoulder. "I suggest you make an effort to relax. _I_ am the one with the challenge."

"I believe I explained why I am uneasy."

"Then perhaps you should focus on how you can most expediently repair anything that has a negative outcome."

"Oh, yes, that was an uplifting idea," Ratchet replied sarcastically. He was about to start pacing when the station's back door burst open and Broadcast dashed out with Lennox behind him. The comms officer went over to the electric meters and studied them for a moment then bounded over to Perceptor. "Looks like we're good to go. You ready?"

"Are you certain all of the parameters are correct?" the larger mech asked as he leaned over to let Broadcast climb onto his arm. "We must be certain of the correct frequency."

"Got it covered." Broadcast moved up to sit on Perceptor's shoulders and unplugged a cable from the back of his head with each hand. "We go live in five!" Matched panels slid away on either side of Perceptor's head and Broadcast plugged the cables into corresponding ports. Lennox glanced at Ratchet with a raised eyebrow.

"Broadcast can act as a living signal booster," the medic explained. "This is not the conventional way, but we are learning much about adaptability today."

Broadcast casually leaned an elbow on top of Perceptor's head. "And three... two... one..." As he had in the fight with Scorponok, he partially transformed with his arm-speakers tilted upward toward the station's tower. Perceptor shuttered his optics.

"I have obtained contact. It will enter the atmosphere in twenty-eight point five nine six seconds. I cannot adjust its course. It is caught in the gravity well." Twenty-nine seconds later he announced, "I have accessed the manual controls." Several tense minutes passed when he fell silent.

Ratchet opened a private line to Optimus. "Prime, what are your coordinates? We have succeeded in gaining control of the Ark, but it is still coming down. I think we will have to land it without a welcoming party present."

"Do the best you can," Optimus responded. "Even if it ends up sunk into a trench, it's better if it lands in the ocean."

"Roger."

* * *

Sam didn't notice that Bumblebee had left. He was riveted to the television set, as was most of America and a good part of the world. The President spoke encouraging words -- or at least _seemed_ to; Sam was fairly certain he had introduced a few more new words, including an interesting amalgam of "autonomous robotic organisms" that made "Autobots" sound less cartoony. Before that he kept referring to them as Guardians. He mentioned some Renegades from their shared planet of "Robo-tron" and handed the podium over to Defense Secretary Keller with that awkward lead-in. Even Keller seemed peeved at the mishandling of intel.

Mikaela had come over and now they were holding each other's hands in worry as they sat on the couch, knowing how important this moment was. Ron paced behind the couch, while Judy sat in the adjacent armchair, muttering into a cup of tea. "That man...he wouldn't know right from left..." She continued to mumble between sips.

Mikaela was intent on the Defense Secretary's face. While the average person might not notice, she could see the weight on him. She had felt that same weight not too long ago. "C'mon, Mister Keller," she whispered, "We're counting on you." She squeezed Sam's hand.

Ron stopped and brought a fist down on the couch's top cushions in irritation. "This is going to lead to riots, I just know it."

"Quiet, Ron. He's going to speak." Judy gestured to the television with her saucer.

* * *

"First I want to assure the people of the world that the United States was not i _hiding_ /i the Autobots from the public. They chose to remain in seclusion, and as they are a free people themselves, we honored their wish to not be revealed. Even now they are concerned by the possible repercussions. A new division of the United States military will be assigned to the areas granted to the Autobots to avoid harm between any given parties. As I said earlier today, the Autobots are refugees who have suffered a great loss and are looking to the people of Earth for help and understanding."

_ Chromia raced up the roadway with a long-bed tow truck following farther behind. "Ironhide, Prime has ordered us to meet up with him en route north. The Ark is coming down. Bobby has agreed to bring Tracks to Autobase alone."_

"The reason the Autobots came to Earth was for an artifact from their planet that had been launched into space. By chance its route was altered and it landed here around 10,000 BC. This artifact would bring life back to their dying planet. However, they were not the only ones from their planet searching for the artifact. A second group called Decepticons wanted the artifact for their own purposes.

"The Autobots set out to find the artifact _and_ stop the Decepticons from doing harm to our planet. Unfortunately, they struck before the Autobots could regroup their five-man team. Only one was here when the Decepticons surfaced, and he was outnumbered eight to one."

The Secretary of Defense paused, gathering himself for the next secret to be revealed. "The attack on SOCCENT airforce base in Qatar was perpetrated by two Decepticons. They were attempting to collect information on the artifact and did not want any witnesses.

"But we did gain information on them, and we found an effective weapon against them."

_ The car carrier pulled into the parking lot outside the race track. A man in a pit crew suit waved both arms in the air and the carrier rolled toward him. The burly driver leaned out of the cab window. "Sorry for the delay, Bill. Got stuck in some unexpected traffic."_

_ "No prob, Marty. We got plenty of time to get the new paint on those cars."_

_ A teenaged boy in a yellow Camero and a young woman on a hot pink motorcycle looked across the parking lot, pretending to be gazing with interest at the race vehicles. The woman's helmet kept her frown of anger hidden._

"The artifact was in the hands of a government agency and so was easily transferred to the Autobots once an understanding was reached. The Decepticons also found the location and a battle was fought in Mission City, Nevada, in which a brave group of our Army Corps assisted in taking down one Decepticon, and then felled another by themselves. The final blow that defeated the Decepticons was the use of the artifact to destroy their leader. Yet this also resulted in the destruction of the artifact. The Autobots sacrificed the only thing that could save their planet in order to stop the Decepticons."

_ The furrow in the desert plain could have accommodated a new river. Optimus signaled for everyone to stay back as he approached the smoking engines that thrust outward from the mountain the Ark had plowed into. It had been about the best landing they could have expected, and although the land was in upheaval, the mountain had stopped the ship from demolishing the town on its opposite side._

_ Optimus carefully picked his way around the scattered rocks and sharp scraps of plating that had come off the ship. He had to dig out part of the hatch that led to the cargo bay. He pulled at it but it would not open._

_ He climbed back up to the furrow and headed back to the others. Then Ironhide cried out and pointed behind him. Optimus turned and saw a deformed mechanoid stagger out of the craft. He quickly realized it was one mech carrying another. Weapons went up as the scratched Decepticon symbol came into view, and also when a few in the team recognized the Autobot being carried._

_ "I am sorry I could not prevent the harm to him, but I assure you he is alive." Thundercracker held Bluestreak out for Optimus to take. Prime did so and confirmed that the wounded Autobot's spark was still online. Thundercracker crumpled to his knees, keeping himself partly upright with one hand. His voice remained strong. "I claim neutrality. I will bring no further harm to the Autobots."_

"Since that incident the Autobots have been making an effort to recover. At the behest of their leader, more of their kind have come to Earth as they try to reunite and decide if there is still a way to save their planet. In the meantime, they wish to coexist with the people of Earth. They share interest in our culture. Among them are scientists, engineers, medical technicians, historians, and even music enthusiasts. We can teach them much, and in turn we will learn through our similarities."

_ Four meteors came down in the southern part of the Mojave Desert and sat for over an hour before transforming into rudimentary protoforms. Finding vehicle disguises would be difficult, but they had other business first. After another hour's search they found Rattlelatch, damaged to where he could not transform to alt mode but online and tinkering with the insides of two Decepticon spies he had brought down._

_ He repaired Prowl's neck, and with his instructions the team leader returned the favor. Twenty-eight hours of watching the interstate later, a compact car, a Highway Patrol vehicle, a sports car, an SUV, and a minivan with a cargo hitch were headed west on I-40. The latter two had already proclaimed they wanted different forms as soon as such could be found._

"I understand that this sounds like something out of science fiction, but it is not. What it _is,_ is nothing to panic about. We are planning to restrict the Autobots to an area where they can recover and where no one need be concerned about them. Some of them may choose to be in contact with liaisons in order to educate themselves about our society. Our government will be working with them to ensure that boundaries are respected."

_ The Pentagon seemed like just one more variation of a battleground. Lennox felt out of sorts being there yet not in Army uniform, instead wearing his best suit. He refrained from tugging at the jacket as he followed Banachek down the white hallway._

_ Someone familiar, also looking out of place in a suit, was being lead up the hallway. Will tapped Tom's shoulder to signal him to stop. He then waited until Epps stopped, too. They exchanged nods and tight smiles._

_ "Good luck," Bobby said, reaching to shake Will's hand._

_ "You, too." Lennox clasped his other hand on top, then stepped back, offering another smile. He had taken note of Epps' new name tag. "Congratulations on the promotion."_

_ Epps smirked. "Don't know about that, but it ain't every day you can tell your kids that you're the guy who gets to talk to the giant robots for the government."_

_ Will chuckled then moved to follow Tom again. "Later." Epps nodded and gave one last salute to his former captain._

_ Tom continued to lead the way, turning to go down a short flight of stairs that lead to a single closed door, the word ARROW painted above it. "Ready?" he asked, his tone conveying that this was the point of no return._

_ Lennox knew then that the moment he had first gotten involved with the Transformers and survived had changed his life. He could not back out now. "Yes."_

"As you may now be aware, the object that landed in the Southwest was the space craft belonging to the Autobots. A team of Decepticons sabotaged it then left for the deeper reaches of space. The sabotage was meant in spite, to strand the Autobots here. But they were able to control it long enough to bring it down where it would do the least damage. They intend to try to repair it so they can one day leave Earth. Until then, they are here...and we must accept that.

"May I direct you to the screen, and may I introduce you to the Autobot leader."

A tired-looking metal face appeared on the screen behind Keller, mouth and nose exposed, and eyes with such depth that many people changed their negative reactions immediately.

"Greetings. I am Optimus Prime. I am grateful to have this opportunity to speak with you..."

* * *

Judy Witwicky leaned forward in the armchair. "I never get tired of watching one of them talk. It's so _interesting_ with those little gears going up and down like a player piano." Ron muttered something that sound like an agreement, but didn't move from his spot behind the other chair.

Mikaela rubbed the back of Sam's hand, knowing from his posture that he was just as tense as she felt. Like her, he was probably waiting for some loon to start screaming about invaders from Mars. Of course, even if it didn't happen during this broadcast, it was bound to happen in the coming days, weeks, and months. She was glad there had been no specific mention of _who,_ exactly, the Autobots had interacted with. Plus, only Optimus and Trailbreaker had been shown, so everyone else could remain anonymous and hidden.

_They might need to be more subtle about their Autobot badges,_ she thought, _Or maybe their "drivers" could claim they supported the bots._ She then giggled out loud at the thought of someone challenging Ironhide on his pro-alien choice.

Sam glanced at her. "What's so funny?"

"A crazy guy accusing Mister Arcstrom of being an idiot for siding with aliens by having their symbol on his tailgate."

Sam chuckled. "That _would_ be fun to see. But I hope the guys don't get any trouble over this. If everyone would think about it, they'd see the Autobots obviously wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Just because you and your parents took it well doesn't mean everybody in the world can," she warned.

He grinned. "Hey, I'm a strange boy. I can handle giant robots, talking cars, and alien artifacts any day."

"Again, what about the rest of the world?"

"Their loss. _I've_ got the cool car out of the deal."

"And a friend," she chimed in.

"Yup, and a friend. Even if he can't go to the arcade with me."

Mikaela slapped him lightly in the stomach. "And I'm chopped liver?"

"No. You're beautiful." Sam smiled and leaned to kiss her cheek.

"Shush!" Judy hissed, not looking at them. "Get a room. I want to hear what Optimus is saying." Mikaela suppressed another giggle. Mrs. Witwicky was the best mom ever.

* * *

Ratchet muttered as he completed the repair of Rattlelatch's leg. The junior engineer had provided decent instructions and Prowl had done well, but to the medic's professional eye there were refinements to be made. Rattlelatch seemed uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"I can wait, you know. I could simply stay in my quarters and rest up while you do other work."

Ratchet snorted. "Oh, no. I need you at one hundred percent. With Perceptor at the Ark working on the ship's systems, I need someone to help me put Tracks back together. You would probably be better than I am at that given what you have done with those two birdbrains."

"Don't you mean, with those two birds' brains?" Rattlelatch grinned broadly.

"Stop attempting to brag. When you can get the Decepticon hideout from them I will be impressed. Corrupting their memory banks and blocking their signals is nothing exciting, merely virus-like. Yet, speaking of bugs..." Ratchet reset Rattlelatch's leg panels so that they slid into their correct positions, then he went to take a small container off of a shelf. "...see what you can do with this after we have done some work on Tracks. This one gave all our secrets away. If anything, find out how it discovered Autobase _and_ how it got in, in the first place."

Rattlelatch peered into the container, looking like a kid at Christmas. "Ooh, that should be interesting."

"Hmm, yes, I thought you would see it that way. Now _put it down._ Tracks is waiting, and before long we will have an audio receptor-full of complaining."

Rattlelatch nodded and put the container aside. The metal rhinoceros beetle inside hissed. No one heard it.

* * *

Huffer was not liking perimeter duty that particular week. He had to stay in his alt mode and could not transform unless he drove into the garage. The misdirection field had been strengthened but everyone felt the junkyard was a compromised site. The Ark was no better, since only someone living in a cave with no connection to the outside world could have missed that crash. He was surprised the ship was still functional -- well, barely. Prime had told him that he would be called to the site as soon as Prowl's team was up and about. Ratchet had given strict orders that the four were to rest and completely recover from their ordeal first, then they could take up regular duties.

Bluestreak was in the med bay's ICU, along with Thundercracker who was in a similar damaged state yet always conscious. Huffer had not liked the idea of the Decepticon, former or not, being allowed repairs. Prowl had insisted upon it.

Huffer swerved into a stack of tires, knocking them over out of annoyance. "Hey!" Moonracer had driven up just in time to have a tire bounce off her hood. "What's the big idea?"

"Sorry," Huffer said, backing up. "I was thinking."

"About what? Wait, let me guess. Something that angered you?"

"Yeah, maybe. I was wondering what keeps Thundercracker awake."

"A guilty conscience?"

"Heh. Perhaps from the lives of Autobots on his hands?"

"Or he could have glitch," Moonracer suggested. "Personally, I feel sorry for him. He is in such a condition that if he wanted to live, the only option was to come to us."

"How is that worthy of sympathy? He had no choice, so all he _could_ do was surrender." Huffer nudged at a nearby tire as if deciding whether to transform and clean them up.

"There is a difference between surrendering and asking for sanctuary. He is not a prisoner."

"That is _your_ view. We could get much information out of him. Maybe find out where the Combaticons ran off to."

"We could use another flight-capable soldier, so we would be best offering him help so he will stop hating us."

_"If_ he can be trusted to even care that much."

Moonracer sighed. "Well, I hope it is only a guilty conscience. Convincing him to pledge to our cause will be easier that way. A glitch, or nightmares, might only serve to anger him."

"Hn." Huffer rounded up another tire. "Are you going to relieve me from duty or not? I am going to rust waiting for Windcharger and Gears to get back. They could be here before Prowl's team is on their feet, and I need a change of scenery. Even if no scenery is Cybertron's scenery."

"Defluos VI came close, though," she said wistfully.

"Yeah. Except for the bot-eating pirahna."

"There was a sign about 'no swimming'. You should have obeyed it."

"I am going inside now. Pick up these tires, will ya? They should not be left just lying around where someone could trip over them."

Moonracer sighed again.

* * *

Ratchet massaged his right temple plating as he took a break from looking over the schematics Perceptor had sent him. The problem with the Ark as it stood now was that the crash had caused a misalignment in the condensed mode and regular mode, creating new hallways that didn't connect to where their predecessors had led, put walls in the middle of rooms, and removed doors completely. One airlock had created an impossibly strong vacuum between its doors. An existing hallway was putting out such a strong magnetic field that it disrupted the processor of anyone who entered it.

It was going to take a lot of work to make the ship livable. He had scratched the possibility of _flyable_ completely. The small shuttle in the cargo bay might be salvaged, but it was no where near adequate to get _all_ of them off the planet. Perhaps it could be a start...

He stared at the screen again, wondering about sending a message to Wheeljack's personal frequency. It would be a relief to have him available to supervise the deconstruction of the Ark and lend his expertise to modifying the mess they were left with.

But Ratchet shook his head, not wanting to calculate the odds. The only thing they all could do was continue to hope that more wayward Autobots were functional to receive Prime's message.

He leaned his head on his hands as he switched screens to a view of the Ark. Ironhide and Chromia had cleared the rocks and had been working to shape the mountain around the Ark into something resembling camouflage and more defensible terrain. " 'Crash it into a volcano,' he says. 'It will cover the impact,' he says. Next time I see him, I will tell him thank you for _jinxing_ us." He exhaled loudly through his upper vents.

_"Who_ jinxed us?" asked a voice from the back of the bay.

Ratchet turned and saw Bluestreak standing by a cabinet, leaning against the side. "What do you think _you_ are doing, walking around without clearance?"

"I am not going to stay on that recharge berth forever. I want to see Earth. I want to know..." Ratchet waited for him to continue, eying him critically. The mech's posture was stiff, reserved. Bluestreak shook himself. "But you did not answer. Who jinxed us?"

"Ironhide. He and I were speaking of the Ark one day. His suggestion for bringing it down was flawed logically. Yet, here we are." Ratchet gestured to the screen.

Bluestreak came over, looking horrified at the view of the ship. He clenched his fists at his sides. "I will get Skywarp for this. He teleported aboard while Thundercracker and I were on surveillance and weapons. He knocked out Thundercracker first, then cornered me and told me their plans for the Ark's information databanks. Then he shot me. I started to have another flashback so I forced myself into stasis lock. I thought I would be able to come out of it and find out what he was doing, then I would try to stop him. But something in my processors was damaged and I never woke..."

He trailed off again and did not continue. Ratchet stood and clasped Bluestreak's shoulder with a reassuring grip.

**To Be Concluded**

* * *

_A/N: Hopefully some questions were answered here, and more will be addressed in the epilogue, but if you have any others, please feel free to ask! I can provide the answers in the next story._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or Go-Bots, that's all Hasbro/Takara/etc, and those wonderful, wonderful people at Dreamworks._


	12. Chapter 12  Epilogue

**Reunions, Part Twelve - Epilogue**

Out in the Atlantic Ocean, a lone aircraft carrier sat on the waves, its deck bereft of planes and crew. There was a large satellite dish partway out from the tower which was the appropriate place for receiving equipment. This satellite dish, however, was broadcasting jamming signals and general Bermuda Triangle-like interference.

Below deck, in the lowermost level of the ship, six large mechanoids worked around a pool leading into the ocean. They operated three separate winches and hauled lines of cable around, fishing out pieces of metal that used to be part of robots like themselves. Several had been carelessly tossed aside; one of the latest pieces read _"4500X"._

Above, the satellite dish moved of its own accord, the base shifting as the disk itself retracted at two different points. Soundwave trusted that the skies would remain empty with Skywarp and Thrust patrolling farther out. He entered the base of the tower. The floor automatically lowered to the second level. He stepped off and approached an assortment of monitoring equipment. On two screens with intersecting views were the Constructicons. He scowled behind his visor when he saw the increasing number of Blackout's parts ending up on the scrap pile. He had hoped more of his fellow spy and saboteur had stayed intact given the way he had been brought down. Perhaps at least a processing unit had survived.

He accessed several other cameras and a few data files. One screen showed a race track, another an empty junkyard. A third came in fuzzy and in hues of red, until something gray walked over the red ground. One of the file screens displayed a scrolling list.

_Ratbat... ... .Status: repairs_

_Ravage... ... Status: repairs_

_Laserbeak... Status: MIA_

_Buzzsaw... ..Status: MIA_

_Rumble... ... Status: en route_

_Squawktalk...Status: en route_

_Beastbox... ...Status: in field_

_Frenzy 2.0... .Status: in progress_

_Bombshell... ..Status: MIA_

_Shrapnel... ... Status: in progress_

_Kickback... ... Status: in field_

_Scorponok...Status: DESTROYED_

Soundwave watched the pool, adjusting a third camera. There could be only so much scrap. They would have to find their leader soon.

Two names on the list began to blink, their status changing to _on base._ A few moments later the upper floor lowered again. A bird-like mech tottered coolly in, while an irate pile of cutlery stomped over.

"I wanted to KEEP that other body! I coulda flattened that Autobot, and his little human, too!"

"How_else_ did you expect to pull out from that situation?" Soundwave asked without looking at Rumble.

"Situation, nothin'! That was _me_ trashin' the place and a lousy Autobot that could block my punches! If you ask me, Motormaster's strategies stink!"

"Yet we were able to progress this far."

_"This far?!"_ Rumble leaped onto the monitoring console and pointed at one of the pool-level screens. "We got no key, we got no ship, we got no_way_ of gettin' in their base again, and I ain't got no real body!"

Soundwave emitted a long buzz. Rumble crossed his arms and tapped one foot, then went on, "The Stunticons coulda taken that base. If they'd just destroyed the Autobots right there we wouldn't'a lost the key!_Broadcast_ or not." He put extra emphasis on the comm officer's name.

"Motormaster answered to Onslaught's command. Who are we to question the Generals?"

"Who are we, indeed." Rumble's multiple optics flashed bright red, then he jumped down from the console. "I'll be rechargin' if anyone comes up with any more stupid plans."

"Rumble."

The small mech looked back at Soundwave and folded his mouth pieces into the approximation of a sneer. Soundwave merely stared at him until the smaller mech hurried away.

* * *

Prowl's team provided excellent security for both the Ark site and Autobase One once Inferno and Firestar had found more suitable alt modes, a fire truck and fire helicopter, respectively. Perceptor, Ratchet, Huffer, Rattlelatch, and Moonracer had accomplished much in salvaging the ship and getting some of its equipment switched from the embedded front to the cargo area in the back, which was now serving as the ship's communications hub. Rattlelatch and Perceptor had set up a console they had dubbed "Teletraan-1" and were still in the process of transferring data from the Ark's files when Optimus called Perceptor back to Autobase to work on something else. 

It had been three months since the Ark crash. Optimus entered the back chamber of Autobase with a sinking feeling already hitting his spark.

"Good morning, Optimus," Perceptor called from his seat at a side console.

"Any progress?"

Perceptor turned and shook his head. The question had become a ritual so he did not need any further details. "Very little, I am afraid. There is something involved in the energy transfer that I have yet to duplicate. As our sparks are a constantly renewing source of our individual energy levels, so too did the Cube renew itself. Yet it will not absorb energy from an outside source as we can. This will take more time and study."

Optimus nodded, walking over to the open-sided stasis tube that held the shard of the Allspark that he had taken from Megatron's wound. It remained suspended in the fluid Perceptor had synthesized to protect it. Prime placed one hand on the glass. For a moment a blue sheen flashed across the surface of the shard, but nothing more occurred. Optimus turned away.

"Please, take what time you need to find the answer. By any means, we must try to restore the Allspark. For now, it is our only hope."

"Understood," Perceptor replied with a nod. Then, with some hesitancy, he said, "I have noticed that verbal altercations have resumed amongst our forces. I would say it is advantageous that we are now split between two bases."

Optimus sighed. "I know, and in part agree." He cast a glance toward the Allspark shard again. Then he headed out of the room, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked toward the elevator. He chose to go up two levels to the guard tower, deciding he could find an empty area there to think.

He went past the front guard platform, not announcing himself. No need to invite more questions or concerns he had no answers for. He went to the platform that overlooked the train tracks and took hold of a tree branch serving as part of the camouflage. He pulled the end of it down until the leaves were level with his optics. He studied them for a few minutes, noting how they moved in response to the air cycling out of his intakes. With increased interest, he watched an insect take tiny bites out of one leaf.

He heaved a great sigh, causing the leaves to whip about. He quickly grabbed the leaf with the insect on it. It was clinging to its spot. He increased his optical magnification and saw the creature had sticky pads on its feet. Resuming regular optical input, he carefully released the branch.

"Optimus?" came Bumblebee's voice.

Prime turned, surprised. "Bumblebee. I did not expect you to be here. I thought you were still going to stay with Sam."

"I came by to chat with Arcee about something, but there is another thing I was going to report. I prefer to speak with you about it now, if that is all right."

Prime considered for a moment, then nodded. "Go ahead."

"I have noticed something about Sam and Mikaela recently. I detected Cybertronian energy residue around them, like an aura. I have determined that it is not from the proximity of my own power core, and it seems different from power core radiation, anyway. I cannot say if it is simply in a higher or lower range on the scale, or reacts on a separate scale altogether."

"Is it having adverse effects on them?"

"No. They appear perfectly healthy."

Optimus nodded thoughtfully. "Keep checking on them. Perhaps Ratchet could provide further insight when he is free." He then startled as something occurred to him. "Wait. Ratchet mentioned that Will was able to trigger the key into regeneration mode. Will handled the Cube..."

"...As did Sam and Mikaela," Bumblebee finished for him. His face plates crinkled with worry. "Do you think it will do long-term harm to them? The Cube was, after all, meant for mechanical life."

"That may ease our concern right there. The Allspark energy did not saturate into the rock it was embedded in. It might have only temporary effects on a living organic creature."

"Given that there are no transforming dinosaurs in Earth's paleontology records, that is plausible. I will record readings and any changes."

"Good. We must find out for certain. This would be an unintentional experiment." Prime frowned. "It is the last thing we would intend for our friends."

Bumblebee nodded. "I'll be on my way, then, if there is nothing you might need me for?"

"No, you may go. Thank you for offering. ...I always appreciate your dedication, Bumblebee."

"Sir." The yellow mech saluted.

Prime saluted him back. Bumblebee bowed graciously then left the platform. Optimus filed the news in with all of the other concerns weighing on his processor. _How many other humans touched the Cube?_

* * *

Chromia was staring at the western horizon as the sun was setting, her optics taking in the seemingly endless uninhabited scenery. She sighed heavily. 

"Are you all right, Chromia?" Ironhide asked softly as he walked up, stopping behind the low rock formation chosen to mark the outer perimeter of the Ark's territory. When she did not respond, he inquired at her in Cybertronian, using a word that had no Earth equivalent.

She repeated the word and turned to look at him. "Apologies. I was...lost in my thoughts."

"Share them with me?" he implored, reaching to touch her left arm.

She nodded. "I was thinking of how tired I am. How old I am. Of all the time that has passed." She took his hand in hers and then looked up at the stars. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"I remember that you had me on my knees."

"That is because you were a prisoner."

"Doesn't change the fact," he said with a grin.

"Yes, well." She cleared her vocalizer and continued, "You were randomly chosen due to a battle. You were later freed through a battle. Then we were in battles side-by-side. Centuries. Millennia. Battle battle battle." She heaved another sigh.

He stroked his other hand over hers. "It still gives our lives as warriors meaning, does it not?"

"Yes. I do not know how to live any other way. However..." She raised her right arm and looked at her fingers, bending each in turn. Her pointer finger and thumb would not fold completely. "I am now wishing it could be different." She gazed at him, running the back of her hand along the right side of his face.

He caught the hand in his left, bringing their clasped hands together. "I would not have changed that meeting or the riot for anything in the universe."

She gave a tight smile. "Nor would I. It simply...saddens me that we joined in order to create a weapon to yet again fight our brethren. I...I am feeling..." She lowered her optics, unable to put her emotions into words.

Ironhide released her hands, raising his own to cup her face between them. He leaned toward her, touching his forehead to hers. She adjusted her optical sensors to find his right optic behind the uneven plating, and just gazed sadly into his cameras. He uttered a questing sound.

Finally, she continued, "I feel old and damaged. Perhaps age should not concern so much, but my spark feels heavy."

"We are _all_ feeling a weight from the loss of the Ark. It was a connection to our home." Ironhide eased back, lowering one hand while keeping the other at the side of her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek plating.

"I cannot deny that is a factor, but it is also simply _me."_She touched both her hands to her chest. "I do not want to be a fighter forever. Yet it seems like..." She shook her head lightly. "It just never ends, does it?"

He lowered his hand to her shoulder, nodding. Silence settled around them. After a while Chromia slipped away from Ironhide's hand and he watched as she walked a little ways through the sand. She tilted her head up, holding her arms out, palms up and fingers spread. He could sense her spark energy spreading invisibly before her, calling on a wavelength only it could achieve. He waited, remaining silent. Then his own spark began to pull and he stepped forward, taking his time before reaching her. He put his arms around her from behind, placing both hands over her spark case. She slowly lowered her arms then leaned back against him.

"Someday it will all be over."

**End**

* * *

_While the Decepticons have slipped back into hiding, the Autobots have to deal with the publicity of the Ark's landing and yet need to find their enemies at the same time. With the cooperation of the government they will try. The ARROW group continues to clean up Sector Seven's loose ends, Agent Epps has quite the task ahead of him, and Reggie Simmons will eventually have some explaining to do. Meanwhile, everyone is still waiting to see if more Autobots have received Prime's message, but will they get a moment's peace now that the whole world knows about them? How much longer will being "in disguise" be a fact instead of just a ruse?_

_Stay tuned for Transformers: Renewal._

* * *

Author's Note: My gratitude to everyone who has made it through this story, I appreciate that you took interest and took the time to read it. I haven't completed a multi-chapter story in about six years, so I wasn't sure what I would be getting into by continuing this one beyond a one-shot. I'm really glad that you could join me on this journey of character exploration and development, and also exploring the type of "what if"s that could be gleaned from the 2007 movie. I have become very fond of the new continuity that Dreamworks has presented us, and I hope to write more about both the characters established in the movie and the ones I have adapted or created for my version of "movieverse". I hope you will continue to find interest in my fanfiction and I equally hope I can provide quality reading. 

As a final disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers, the Autobots, or the Decepticons. I'm not making any money off this fan fiction, it is merely for entertainment purposes.

My fan created characters do belong to me, those being Rattlelatch, Eugene Breckstein, and Rhythm & Blues, made for the express purpose of playing in the Transformers universe.


End file.
